


Endure and Survive

by TheSopherfly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Discussions of Suicide, Guns, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Past Attempted Suicide (discussed), Past Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Ending, Sexual Content, Suicide, Weapons, rhodey works for HYDRA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-22 14:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12483680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSopherfly/pseuds/TheSopherfly
Summary: ((The Last of US AU))It’s been eight years since the cordyceps outbreak. Eight years, and Bucky has come to terms with things. With people dying. He’s not afraid of death. Doesn’t love anyone enough to be upset if they died. Not even Natasha. She’d argue with him, if he ever said that out loud, so he keeps his mouth shut. They don’t talk much, anyway. Jobs don’t really require talking - just fists and guns.Eight years since the outbreak, and Bucky thinks he’s seen everything. He’s been double crossed before, that’s nothing new - and Rumlow is an asshole who’s had it coming for a long time. He’s done a few drops for the Fireflies before, too, probably out of some misplaced sentimentality for Steve; and he’s honestly not surprised when Rhodes wants a favor, even though the guns are rightfully theirs.But no one’s ever asked him to smuggle a kid.Yeah, yeah, okay. Tony isn’t a kid. But he’s still obnoxious and irritating and apparently needs protection. Because apparently, Tony is the only hope for the entire human race.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Many thanks to [folklejend](https://folklejend.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!

 The world had changed.

It was the one thing Bucky was willing to admit. It sure as hell wasn’t better, but he couldn’t convince himself it was really any worse. Sure, people were terrible. But people had always been terrible. Always would be. Only difference was, now that they’d come to the end of civilization, everyone was willing to admit it.

Things had gotten bad fast after the first cordyceps outbreak. Within a week, a dozen cities had implemented Martial Law, with the rest of the country quick to follow. In the blink of an eye, those same cities had been cordoned off. Quarantine Zones had been established. Capitalism had sputtered and died at the hands of a new plague, one that couldn't be reproduced in the lab without fatalities. One that didn't have a cure.

Bucky remembered hearing that phrase on the radio before the independent channels had been shut down. ‘Sputtered and died.’ That hadn’t been it. Everyone had _panicked_. And then everything had gone to hell all at once. It had all happened so fast. Bucky had never had time to process it, not really. Grief and guilt still choked him in his sleep.

Eight years. Eight goddamn years. _You’d think that’d be enough to make you forget._

There was no forgetting that night. The remnants were scarred into his skin. The shrapnel had torn into him with savage imprecision, the shards forming a twisted lattice pattern on his arm. Bucky could still feel the blood running down his fingertips and dripping into the grass. He could still taste the dirt in his mouth. He could still hear Steve in the background, telling him they had to move. And Bucky _had_ moved, stumbling, unsteady steps backward, his eyes still fixed straight ahead.

It was Bucky’s fault. His fault that his sister had died. His fault that they’d had to leave her behind. His fault he hadn’t been able to block the blast in time.

Those fucking soldiers. They’d been given orders to attack civilians. It was some kind of poetic justice that HYDRA had started blowing them to bits. About damn time they got a taste of their own medicine.

Bucky growled, throwing an arm over his eyes as if that would drive the thoughts from his mind. It didn’t matter how often or how little he thought about it. The memory crept into his dreams, vicious and _real_ , and more often than not he woke with his face in the pillow, screaming until his lungs were empty, his voice raw and hoarse. It was how he’d woken just hours ago, his heart still pounding, his whole body drenched in sweat.

Natasha knew. She’d known from the beginning, and if she hadn’t, she certainly did now. Bucky tried to keep things to himself, but he wasn’t always quiet. Sometimes he broke things. Sometimes he screamed too loud. Still, Natasha didn’t say anything. Asking questions wouldn’t fix it, and talking about it put a foul taste in Bucky’s mouth that didn’t wash out for weeks. It made him an unpleasant person to be around. Natasha had learned quickly never to bring it up. She stayed silent about all of it - the nightmares, the PTSD, the general irritability - and left him to deal with his demons alone.

More often than not, he and Natasha spent their days together, collecting and transporting goods, putting down anyone stupid enough in their way. It felt like they’d been partners all their lives. In a fight, Natasha could anticipate which way Bucky would move. She covered him when he needed it and pressed the advantage when she was sure Bucky planned to hang back. They were a well oiled machine. Bucky couldn’t remember a time where they hadn’t complemented each other perfectly.

Natasha’s only flaw was that she had a damned annoying independent streak. Bucky didn’t like that. He was used to operating as part of a unit. He was a soldier first and foremost, and even if he’d gone out on missions alone, he’d only done it on specific orders. Bucky didn’t come up with plans and execute them without a directive. But Natasha… She took matters into her own hands out of spite. She enjoyed it, being the only person who knew what was going on. And that sometimes left Bucky in the unpleasant position of not knowing where she was, or what she was doing, or whether or not she’d be coming back.

She _should've_ been back by now. She’d been gone too long. He’d heard her leave soon after he’d woken up, but he hadn’t had the energy to stop her. Or maybe he hadn’t been willing to put in the effort. Once Natasha’s mind was made up, it was nearly impossible to change it.

_If she’d been doing something dangerous, she would’ve told you._

Bucky couldn't convince himself that it was true. Natasha was a skilled fighter, but she was reckless, and too stubborn for her own good. She didn't think she needed help. One day, that was going to get her into trouble.

Finally, Bucky heard the door creak open. He levered himself up off the couch and crossed toward Natasha as she stepped inside, sliding the deadbolt into place behind her.

Bucky hadn't been wrong. Natasha had gotten into a fight. There was a cut just below her eye that had split the skin of her cheek, and it was still bleeding. Bucky narrowed his eyes, scanning her from head to toe. No other visible marks. Beat up, but not so beat up that he couldn't scold her for being stupid.

“Where were you, Tash?”

Natasha turned away from him, easing her backpack down onto the ground before crossing to the kitchen. Bucky followed her.

“West End district. We had a drop to make.”

Of course. She’d left him to deal with his nightmares and gone to get the payload without him. Bucky scowled. “You weren't supposed to go alone.”

“I had it handled.”

“That ain't what it looks like.”

“Well, I couldn't exactly wait around for _you_ , could I?”

Bucky set his teeth, refusing to react. He didn't control his nightmares. He wasn't about to apologize for Natasha’s impatience.

“You don’t need to worry, anyway,” Natasha continued, digging into a drawer for a washcloth and running it under cold water. “Drop went off without a hitch.”

“So what happened?”

“I got jumped by a couple of Rumlow’s idiots.”

Bucky breathed out, leaning back against the table. _Rumlow_. They hadn’t quite concluded their business with the arms dealer - they were still keeping up appearances - but Rumlow had double-crossed them one too many times, and Bucky and Natasha were planning to hit him where it hurt. “So he’s onto us.”

“Looks like it.” The nozzle squeaked as Natasha turned off the water, and she dabbed underneath her eye, frowning when the washcloth came away bloody.

“Here. Let me.” Bucky pulled the cloth from her hand, reaching up and applying gentle pressure to her cheek. “These idiots. They still around?”

Natasha snorted. “Don’t insult me.”

“Just makin’ sure.”

“Well. Lucky for us, they knew where Rumlow was hiding.”

Bucky could imagine exactly what Natasha had done to extract that information. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but some sick part of him liked the idea of her torturing those bastards. With everything Bucky had done, everything he’d been through, he _enjoyed_ seeing people get what they deserved.

“Well.” Bucky set the washcloth down on the table, crossing his arms. “If you know where he is, we oughta get him before he gets us.”

Natasha smiled. “My thoughts exactly.”

~

On the outside, Boston’s industrial district didn’t look much different. The buildings were still standing. The pavement was cracked, broken up by patches of grass. The alleys were blocked off, though Bucky wasn’t sure whether that made the streets themselves any safer. The alleys were easy enough to get to, if you knew how to hop a fence without getting caught.

They were headed toward the checkpoint that would lead to unregulated territory. They’d have to show papers and give the guards a valid reason to be leaving the Quarantine Zone-

But it didn’t look like they were going to make it that far.

 _HYDRA._ It was the only thought Bucky had before a truck came barreling toward the checkpoint, half on fire. It crashed into the fence and the guards scattered, sprinting in the opposite direction as the truck exploded, bursting into flames. Bucky and Natasha were far enough back to avoid the explosion that followed, but it still made Bucky’s ears ring. He backpedaled a few paces, his eyes still trained on the burning truck.

“Guess we’re taking the long way,” Natasha said.

“Guess so.” Bucky shook his head. “Damn HYDRA.”

HYDRA was all that was left of the resistance. They had opposed the government’s stance on the outbreak from the beginning; they'd preached hope to the hopeless with phrases like, _‘When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.’_ Bucky had always thought it was all bullshit. They didn’t stand a chance of helping anyone. Any time they were around, innocents died. They made things goddamn difficult for people who were trying to make this new world work for them. And they _still_ believed in finding a cure. They were fools chasing after a lost cause. Bucky had been glad to hear that Steve had cut ties with them once and for all.

The ‘long way’ took Bucky and Natasha through the tunnels, the ones that weren’t guarded. They ducked into the abandoned building three blocks down, back to the corner room with the fireplace, behind the bookshelf, down into the basement. It was cold and dark, and the ceiling was too low, but it was a way around all that shit up top. Bucky didn’t know who’d made this workaround; he just knew that he and Natasha used it whenever going topside wasn’t an option.

They walked half a mile until they reached the spores. The damn things would infect anyone who breathed them in, and god help the poor soul who didn’t get his gas mask on in time. These spores had been around a while, and Bucky and Natasha were prepared, slipping on their masks before stepping into the haze. It didn't dissipate until they made it to the surface, and as soon as they hit the fresh air, Bucky peeled his gas mask off, taking a deep breath. Wearing that thing always made him feel like the world was closing in on him. He blinked up at the sky - the sun would be setting in an hour, two at most - then followed Natasha as she moved ahead toward the slums.

The market was in full swing. An old woman wearing a black hat offered animal bones in exchange for ration cards. Dogs growled and yipped as they fought behind the fence. People looked at Bucky sidelong, like they were sizing him up, and Bucky ignored the prickle at the back of his neck. Natasha got them through the worst of it just with her name - even the drug lords let her pass unimpeded, and Bucky trailed behind her through the maze until they reached the freight yard.

 _Of course this is where he is_ , Bucky thought. Rumlow was too predictable.

The freight yard was defensible. At least that was smart. But there were so many places to hide. The concrete was littered with shipping crates, some full, some empty, all plenty large enough to use as cover. It wasn't going to be hard to take out Rumlow’s men one at a time.

“Well,” Bucky said, pulling out his knife. “Let’s pick ’em off.”

~

There was something peaceful in the quiet before a kill. Bucky stayed crouched down behind one of the empty shipping crates, listening for the sound of boots around the corner. Rumlow’s men walked the yard in a sensible pattern. Each guard had his track, back and forth the same way every time. It was the smartest way to keep this much square footage covered, but it made the hired guns easy targets. If Bucky was lucky, he could use stealth instead of brute force. He could jump them before they knew what was what, choke them before they could make any noise.

It worked that way for every single kill, even if it took longer than Bucky liked. Being quiet and careful for so long got to be tedious, and Bucky had to resist the urge to storm the warehouse, guns blazing. That almost guaranteed injuries Bucky might not come back from.

Half an hour later, Bucky had circled his side of the perimeter and done his dirty work. He’d managed to break his knife - at some point he’d have to re-up on supplies - but he hadn’t drawn any attention to himself. He found Natasha at the back of the warehouse, her sleeves rolled up, her hands bloody. “I’m assumin’ that’s not yours?”

“Not mine,” Natasha replied. “We’ve got four left in the building.”

“Let’s get to it then.”

Bucky followed Natasha up the back stairs, crouched low to stay out of sight. Two men on the second floor, two on the first. Bucky pulled his pistol out of its holster as they reached the landing. One guard across the room, one a dozen yards away. Natasha raised her own pistol, and Bucky took hold of her arm.

“I got better aim,” he whispered.

Natasha nodded. “I’ll cover you.”

Bucky didn’t need the cover. One well placed shot, and the man across the room dropped like a rock. The second guard heard the shot and turned his head-

Shot number two was equally deadly. Natasha smiled, impressed. “I always forget you used to be a sniper.”

“You should see what I can do with a rifle and a good scope.”

The gunfire had drawn attention, and Bucky held his position, thinking they'd been smart to wait on the guns. The two remaining guards hurried up the stairs in the center of the room, slowing when they saw the bodies. That was a mistake. Bucky took one and Natasha took the other, and even if the shots weren't perfect, they did the job.

“That's the last of ’em.” Bucky tucked his pistol away. “I gotta find some more blades. You think we got time to search this place?”

Natasha nodded. “Rumlow’s not going anywhere.”

~

It wasn't a gold mine, but the warehouse wasn't low on supplies, either. Bucky found a few blades to make new shivs, some rubbing alcohol, three boxes of ammo, and a bottle of ibuprofen. Natasha found enough gauze to last them a week, provided they didn't get too bloodied up.

“Well,” Natasha said, zipping her backpack and pulling it back over her shoulders. “I'm thinking that back office must be where Rumlow is hiding.”

Bucky tried the handle. “Locked.”

“Doesn't look sturdy. Think you can muscle it open?”

“I can try.”

The metal was cheap and thin, and the door warped as soon as Bucky put his weight into it, pulling hard. The lock broke, and the door rattled, practically coming off its hinges. It opened into a foyer, with a door on the other side. This one wasn't locked. It gave easily, and Bucky followed Natasha’s lead, pulling out his pistol and stepping into the back office.

“Would you look at that,” Natasha said as Bucky crossed the threshold. “Just the man we've been looking for.”

“Don’t move.” Rumlow gripped his gun in both hands, aiming it at Bucky’s head.

“It’s two against one. Even you should be able to calculate those odds.” Natasha took a step toward Rumlow, raising her pistol higher. “It's over. We've got you.”

Rumlow looked between them, his eyes wide, not saying anything.

And then he ran.

~

Bucky didn’t like running. He hated the way it made his lungs burn and his muscles ache. He hated the way it reminded him of the night of the outbreak, when he hadn’t been smart enough, hadn’t been fast enough. Running, Bucky could’ve done without. But no one who’d ever tried to outrun Bucky had succeeded. It wasn't a matter of if he'd catch Rumlow; it was a matter of when _._ His feet pounded the pavement hard. Rumlow hopped through windows and over fences, trying to slow them down, but Natasha was only three steps behind Bucky, and Bucky was closing fast. They trailed Rumlow through the alley, around the back entrance to the freight yard-

And chased him straight into a dead end. Barbed wire fence. No way over, no way through. Rumlow was trapped, and he knew it. Bucky could see it in his eyes. But like any man caught and cornered, he was going to try to bargain.

“Barnes. Romanov.”

“Rumlow.” Natasha looked at him over her pistol. “We done with this little game?”

Rumlow nodded, still out of breath. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re done.”

“Good.” She lowered the pistol just a fraction. “Where are our guns?”

“I don't have them.”

“No shit. Where are they?”

“I can't tell you that.”

Bucky reached down to pick up a loose pipe from the ground, one that was just slightly longer than his forearm. That was one of few benefits of the world falling apart; there was always some kind of bludgeon lying around. Bucky grasped the iron tightly as Natasha spoke.

“Try again.”

Rumlow shook his head. “Can't.”

And then damn it, Rumlow was going to try to make a break for it, sprinting in between them-

_Crack!_

Bucky slammed the pipe into Rumlow’s legs, hard enough to shatter bone. Rumlow shouted, tripped, then fell face-first onto the ground, forehead and nose grinding into the pavement. “That ain't the answer we're lookin’ for.”

Rumlow lifted himself up onto his forearms. “Well it's the answer I've got.”

 _Enough_. Bucky brought one booted foot straight down onto Rumlow’s cheek.

“Fuck!” Rumlow turned his face and tried to move, but Bucky had already crouched down beside him and taken hold of his arm, twisting _hard_. Rumlow squirmed, then stilled, his breath coming out in gasps.

“Who has our guns?” Bucky asked, matter-of-fact. Rumlow understood how this worked. The more answers he gave, the less pain there would be.

When Rumlow didn’t say anything, Bucky twisted harder until the muscles screamed under his hands. The tendons stretched. The ligaments stopped short, so small and fragile, so close to snapping like twigs. Bucky knew _exactly_ how much it hurt. A smarter man would’ve tapped out. He held Rumlow there, suspended in that terrible place where pain and fear coiled together. One chance. If Rumlow talked, Bucky would let go.

But of course, Rumlow didn’t talk. _Idiot._

Bucky dug fingers deep and turned, the torque yanking Rumlow’s shoulder right out of its socket. He felt the jolt of Rumlow’s body all the way up his own arms as the bone slipped out of place, and the noise pulled from Rumlow’s unwilling throat was brutally satisfying. Bucky released his grip, glancing up at Natasha. Every man had his breaking point. If Rumlow wasn’t ready to talk, then Bucky could do more. _Would_ do more. But judging by the look on Rumlow’s face, that wasn’t going to be necessary.

“Who has our guns?” Natasha repeated.

“HYDRA,” Rumlow said through gritted teeth. “I owed HYDRA.”

_Son of a bitch._

“Look. They're basically all dead. We can just go in there, finish ’em off, get the guns.” Rumlow was fishing now, trying to find a way out of the mess he’d made for himself. “C’mon,” Rumlow tried again. “Fuck HYDRA. Let’s go get ’em!”

Natasha shook her head. “That’s a stupid idea.”

Close range, Natasha’s aim was just as deadly as Bucky’s. The bullet pierced straight through Rumlow’s forehead and burrowed deep, leaving Rumlow with a bloody third eye.

“I want our guns,” Natasha said, holstering her pistol. “I can’t believe he sold them to HYDRA.”

“Ain’t important now. He paid for it.” Bucky stared at Rumlow’s lifeless body, thinking that he hadn’t been worth the bullet. “C’mon. Let’s go find someone who works for HYDRA.”

“You won’t have to look very far.”

Bucky turned. “Speak of the devil.”

Colonel James Rhodes. Or at least, he had been, until the Military had taken things too far. Rhodes had been a staunch supporter of government involvement right up until they’d stopped searching for bodies outside the Quarantine Zones.

“You ain’t lookin’ so good.”

In the old world, it would’ve been an understatement. Rhodes had been shot in the side, and the blood was seeping through his shirt, staining the fabric a deep red. Surprising that he hadn’t died already. That shot must’ve hit in just the right place. No internal organs, no vital arteries. Just muscle. Still, that kind of wound was painful as all hell, and he’d bleed out eventually if he didn’t get medical attention.

“I’ve dealt with worse.” Rhodes caught sight of Rumlow’s body and sighed. “I needed him alive.”

“First come, first served,” Natasha quipped. “I hear you have our guns.”

“Rumlow sold them to me.”

“They weren’t his to sell. It would be in your best interest to return them.”

Bucky shot her a warning look. Rhodes wouldn’t respond to threats the way Rumlow had. That wasn’t his way. It would be easier to make Rhodes a deal. “Look. Let’s not go around in circles here. I’m thinkin’ you won’t part with ’em without gettin’ something in return. That right?”

Rhodes narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“Thought so.” Bucky crossed his arms. “So. What’s your price?”

Rhodes glanced between them a few times, not saying anything.

“Come on, Rhodes.” Natasha’s voice grew soft and persuasive. “We’re on a timeline, and clearly you need to get that fixed, so just tell us what you want.”

Another long pause. When Rhodes finally spoke, it wasn't what Bucky had expected. “I need something smuggled out of the city. You do that, I’ll give you your weapons and then some.”

Bucky shook his head. Smuggling was one thing. Going outside the city was another. He looked over at Natasha.

“How do we even know you have them?” Natasha asked.

Her words were cut off by shots in the distance, and Rhodes glanced back over his shoulder. Those guns must've been looking for him, although it didn't much matter who they were looking for. If you got caught outside the fence, you usually didn’t make it back.

“I’ll show you the guns,” Rhodes said. “I can take you to them. Right now.”

The shots were getting closer, and the voices were distinguishable now, calling for a search of the area. No matter which way this went, they all needed to get a move on.

Rhodes started toward the stairs. “That’s my cue. So. What’s it gonna be?”

Natasha nodded once, then started after Rhodes. “I want to see those guns.”

~

For the fact that he was injured, Rhodes moved surprisingly fast. They followed him back the way they’d come, down an alley, over storage crates, and up a fire escape. They ended up on a rooftop landing, the old air-conditioning units overgrown with moss and vines.

“Hey - I think I heard something over here.”

 _Soldiers._ Bucky ducked, peering around the corner to count. Two were visible, but there had to be at least ten in this sector. Bucky hated soldiers. That combat armor made it difficult to get a clean shot, and you could waste four bullets before making a kill. Not economical.

“We can sneak by them,” Rhodes said, so quietly Bucky barely heard him. “Even though I know that’s not your style.”

“Fine by me.” Bucky and Natasha preferred not to take chances. A stunned man might not be an immediate threat, but a dead man couldn’t come back to attack you later on. Still, Bucky could understand how sneaking past these soldiers might be the safer plan. Rhodes couldn't afford to get any more injured. And Bucky wanted to save his bullets.

It was a good thing soldiers this far out weren't careful. Scanning the perimeter meant looking once, maybe twice, then moving on to a new location. The three of them slipped into the apartment building through the window and snuck from room to room, staying out of sight until the voices and footsteps receded far enough that they weren’t in any danger. Finally, they made it to the double doors on the opposite side of the roof and pushed their way through.

This was the HYDRA side of town, outside of the Quarantine Zone and far beyond where Bucky and Natasha normally went. Bucky didn’t like being so far from their normal territory. That only meant it would be that much harder to get back. They made their way through the doors and up stone steps into what must’ve been a school building, back before the outbreak. Halfway to the top of the stairs, the horn blared, and a woman’s voice came through the loudspeakers.

_“Attention. Curfew is now in full effect. Anyone caught outside without the proper authorization will be arrested and prosecuted.”_

Bucky tried hard not to grind his teeth. Traveling after dark was dangerous, especially so far from the Quarantine Zone. They needed to get out of here.

“How much longer?”

“It’s just up here,” Rhodes said, leading them down a long corridor. The walls were painted an ugly light green color that reminded Bucky of his own high-school, and the paint was chipping in places, revealing the cement wall underneath. Another hundred yards, and they came to a door with bars on the windows. Old principal’s office, based on the fading letters above the doorframe.

Rhodes pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open. He barely made it three steps, just crossing the threshold before he collapsed, dropping to his knees. Damn it. He needed to see someone about that injury _soon_.

Bucky reached down to haul him to his feet. “C’mon. I got you.”

“Get off him!”

Of all the things Bucky had been expecting, a kid coming at him with a knife hadn’t been one of them. He released Rhodes out of reflex and backed away, Natasha close behind him. “What the hell?”

“Whoa, hey! Relax, Tony. They’re with me.”

On closer inspection, the kid - Tony - wasn’t really a kid at all. From what Bucky could tell, he must’ve been in his early twenties, although Bucky saw so few young people it was hard to tell how old anyone was anymore.

“Rhodes. What is this?” Bucky demanded, eyes narrowing in frustration when Tony talked over him.

“Rhodey. What the hell happened?”

“I got shot.” Rhodes held out a hand as Tony crowded forward. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

Tony whirled around, eyes fixed sharply on Bucky and Natasha. “And who are these guys, exactly?”

Rhodes took in a shaky breath, sitting all the way up. “Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanov. They’re going to make sure you make it out of the city.”

Something about that was wrong, but it took Bucky more than a few seconds to process what it was. When he got there - when he finally realized exactly what that meant - he took a deliberate step back, looking at Rhodes and Tony like they’d both sprouted two heads. “Hang on - we’re smugglin’ _him?”_

Every muscle in Bucky’s body locked up, rejecting that idea so strongly that Bucky couldn’t even swallow. The saliva was gone from his mouth. His hands went numb. The room warped for just an instant, Bucky’s memories threatening to drag him down somewhere distant and dangerous. He’d done this before. He’d been responsible for protecting someone and failed. He wasn’t about to do it again, not with some ungrateful little shit he didn’t know or care about.

Bucky glanced over at Natasha, jaw tight, expression hard. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considerin’ this.”

“Bucky-”

“ _No_. This ain’t what we signed up for.”

“Great, cause I don’t wanna go with you anyway.” Tony gave him an obnoxious, petulant look, and Bucky just barely found the self control not to punch Tony in the jaw.

“Tony.”

“What? Rhodey, where did you even find these guys?”

“I was close with his partner. Steve Rogers.” Rhodes looked meaningfully at Bucky. “He said if I ever needed it, I could rely on you.”

Of course. Thousands of miles between them, and Steve still managed to volunteer Bucky for things he didn’t want to do. Bucky clenched his fists tight, nails digging into his palms. He owed Steve more than a favor. But _damn it,_ did it have to be this favor?

“I don't need anybody to take me. I can handle myself.” The defensive jut of Tony’s jaw only fueled Bucky’s irritation. This kid was already arguing and they hadn’t even left the building. Spoiled and entitled and combative; Bucky didn’t deal with people like that. He just didn’t.

“This is the way it has to be.” Rhodes managed to stand, leaning against the desk for support. “Here’s the deal. You get Tony to the Capitol building, and I’ll get you double your weapons.”

“How come you can’t take him?” Bucky asked.

“I’m no use to him injured. He needs someone who can protect him. You’re the best thing I’ve got.” Rhodes relaxed a little. “There’s a HYDRA contingent that will meet you there. They’ll take him where he needs to go. As soon as you drop him off, the weapons are yours.”

Bucky met Natasha’s eyes. They’d be assuming more than a little risk, going into the remains of the city. They might get caught. Worse, they might get _bit_. There was no coming back from either of those things. Were the weapons worth it? And was dealing with Tony worth the trouble?

_Think about Steve._

No. Steve had vouched for Bucky without Bucky’s permission. Keeping his promise to Steve didn’t mean shit.

Except it did. _Son of a bitch._

“Show us the weapons,” Natasha said. “Then we’ll do it.”

“Fine. Romanov comes with me to see the weapons, and Barnes takes Tony somewhere safe.”

“What?" Bucky shook his head. _No fuckin' way._  He wasn’t a bodyguard, and he certainly wasn’t a babysitter.

“Rhodey, you seriously trust me with him? He doesn’t even want to do this, he-”

“This is the deal,” Rhodes said, punctuating each word so harshly that Tony’s mouth snapped shut. “Barnes. If you want proof that I’m not lying about your weapons, this is how it has to be.”

“Tash.” Bucky didn’t know what he was asking, but he still said it, looking at Natasha with pleading eyes. She knew his history. She couldn’t make him do this. She wouldn’t.

“I want to see those guns.” Natasha took a step closer to Bucky and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We won’t be long. I promise. Just take him to the safe-house and wait for me there.”

Bucky glowered. He couldn’t talk his way out of it, not if they wanted what they’d paid for.

“Fine.” He glanced pointedly back at Tony. “You, stay close.”

Tony sneered, lips curled, eyes narrowed. “Aye-aye, captain.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning for our first major character death.
> 
> Many thanks to [folklejend](https://folklejend.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!

The trip back to the safehouse took less than an hour. It felt like longer, waiting to make sure Tony kept up, stopping to help Tony up onto platforms or down off of fire escapes. Bucky could move faster on his own - but that wasn’t the deal. Get Tony to the safehouse, then take Tony to the Capitol building. _That_ was the deal. Bucky still couldn’t believe he’d let Natasha talk him into it. Why did she get to look at the guns while Bucky played shepherd to HYDRA’s lost sheep?

 _At least he ain’t arguin’,_ Bucky thought. In fact, Tony had been surprisingly quiet, not saying anything even once they’d made it past the first patrols.

They were outside now, following the narrow path between the buildings and the fence that was meant to keep intruders out and civilians in. Now that curfew was in effect, they needed to be quick. Quick and careful. Bucky hung close to the wall, and Tony followed, staying just two paces behind him. The daylight was fading fast, and they dipped down into the walkway underneath the sidewalk just as Bucky heard the sound of trucks off in the distance. More patrols. Security in Boston’s Quarantine Zone had obviously been increased since the last time Bucky and Natasha had traveled this far out.

“Wait here,” Bucky said.

The trucks passed, making the ground rumble. Bucky waited another minute before nodding, leading the way up the stairs and toward the next alley.

It really was a maze. Only someone who'd taken this path before could have found their way out. There were a dozen wrong turns that would lead straight back to the patrols or into a warren of dilapidated buildings and dead ends.

Night fell as they walked, the sunset bright red, reflecting light in front of them until it disappeared. Ten years ago, the streetlights would’ve kicked on; now, in the fallout of a worldwide epidemic, it was pitch black. Even the moon was hidden behind the clouds. The quiet dark was eerily calm. The only sounds Bucky heard were his feet and Tony’s on the pavement and the small sounds of their breathing.

“You’ve been awful quiet,” Bucky said softly. They had made it to the back alley of the apartment complex - all that was left was to go through the back door and up the stairs.

“We’re trying not to get caught, right? Doesn’t that entail not talking?”

“Usually.” Bucky pulled the key out of his pocket, unlocking the door and ushering Tony inside. “We’re past the worst of it. They ain’t gonna find us now.”

“Still doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.”

“Fine. Don’t talk, then.”

Tony followed Bucky across the lobby and into the stairwell. "What do you want me to talk about, anyway?"

“Dunno. What you’re doin’ with HYDRA, maybe?”

“I’ve known Rhodey since college. He’s sort of the only friend I have left.”

Bucky glanced back at Tony over his shoulder. “You don’t look old enough to have gone to college before all this shit went south.”

“I graduated when I was seventeen.”

“Shit.”

Tony laughed. “Really not that impressive. I still got sent to a Military camp. Smart or not, there’s nothing special about me.”

Bucky paused, letting that sink in. “Then what does HYDRA want with you?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as Bucky made it up the final few steps and led them to the apartment door.

“It's complicated,” Tony said finally.

“Right.”

Bucky let Tony inside, closing the door softly behind them. What did it matter what HYDRA wanted with Tony? It was none of Bucky’s business. This was just another job. Asking questions meant getting invested, and Bucky knew better.

“So what now?” Tony asked.

“Entertain yourself.” Bucky eased his backpack off and sat down on the couch, covering his face with his arm. “And don’t touch anything.”

Bucky didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke to Tony prodding him in the shoulder.

“Hey. Natasha says it’s time to go.”

Hell. The nightmares and the sleepless nights were catching up with him more than he’d realized. He rubbed a hand over his face, blinking a few times and sitting up. At least Tony hadn’t run off. That would’ve been hard to explain.

 _You ain’t his babysitter,_ Bucky reminded himself. Watching Tony like a hawk wasn’t part of Bucky’s job description.

Bucky stood, grabbing his backpack from beside the couch and slinging it over one shoulder.

Natasha was already waiting, leaning against the door with her arms crossed. “Ready, sleeping beauty?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shooting a look back at Tony before leading the way out the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

~

Of course it was raining. Having to cross town wasn’t a big enough task on its own; they had to do it soaking wet and with hardly any visibility. Mud would make them easier to track, too. _Damn weather._ Bucky tucked his hair back into a bun to keep the damp strands out of his face and started moving.

“Holy shit. It's been so long since I've been outside. It's - god. I love the rain.” Tony spun around and pulled down his hood, tilting his head up to catch the drops on his face.

Bucky rolled his eyes, ignoring the small part of him that wanted to smile. He picked up the pace and put a hand on Tony’s back. “Come on. Let’s get goin’.”

It was a literal slog through the mud as they trudged through what must’ve been part of the college. The ceiling had caved in, and most of the walls were crumbling, soft earth and vegetation growing up around the small bits of foundation that still stood. Bucky kept them following the path on the right side, staying covered against the outcropping where once upon a time the building had been flush with the earth.

As they walked, the path narrowed, and they were forced up through the empty trailer of an old semi-truck to get through to higher ground. Bucky climbed out first, looking right-

And then the butt of a rifle came down on his head. Bucky groaned, stumbling sideways. Soldiers. Two of them. _Fuck._

“All right, hands up,” the first soldier said. Wincing, Bucky lifted his hands, falling into line with Natasha and Tony.

“Three civilians,” the first soldier said into her walkie. Something garbled came back through, and she nodded at the second soldier. “Scan ’em.”

Natasha was first, and she was clean, of course. Natasha wasn’t stupid enough to get herself bit, anyway. The soldier moved on to Bucky, and Bucky tilted his head, letting the scanner press in just behind his ear. It flashed green.

Then, it was Tony’s turn, and everything went to hell. The soldier held the scanner up to Tony’s head. Tony stood still for a fraction of a second, then pulled out that damned knife, turning and jabbing the soldier in the knee. The soldier went down. Bucky moved fast, pistol outstretched before he knew what he was doing. The first soldier got a bullet in the chest, then the neck. The second soldier met the same fate, but with a single bullet.

Bucky reached out and yanked the knife out of Tony’s hand. “What the hell was that?”

“I - I just thought - well, we didn’t want them to take us back, did we?” Tony blanched as Natasha stood up and crossed toward him, plucking the scanner out of the mud. “No, don’t-”

“Bucky.” Natasha tossed Bucky the scanner. “Look at this.”

The word ‘infected’ flashed bright red across the bottom of the screen.

 _Shit_.

Bucky rounded on Tony again, raising his pistol. “You'd better start talkin’.”

Tony stared straight into the barrel of the gun, then tilted his chin up to meet Bucky's eyes. “Yeah, I got bit. But I'm _not_ infected.”

Bucky scowled. “We just supposed to believe you?”

“Look. I’ll prove it to you.” Tony unzipped his hoodie and tugged down the vee of his shirt.

“Shit,” Bucky said. There, right in the center of Tony’s chest, was a clicker bite. Except it didn’t look like the bites Bucky had seen. Bites got bad quick. They turned red, they blistered and peeled, the skin bubbled and the rash spread with the fever. It took less than twelve hours to go from healthy human to infected runner. That was what they called the early-stage infected, the ones whose minds were gone but whose bodies hadn’t started to change. Bucky didn’t understand. He’d never seen a bite that looked like this.

“Impressive, right?” Tony's lips curled back in a bitter smile. “Well that beauty is _three weeks old_.”

Natasha shook her head. “That's not possible.”

“Three weeks.” Tony zipped his hoodie back up, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. “I wouldn't lie. I told you, I'm not infected. I should've turned, but I never did.”

 _Of course,_ Bucky thought. That explained everything. Why they were smuggling Tony out of the city; why Tony had seemed so important to Rhodes. It didn’t have anything to do with their friendship. It had to do with HYDRA’s bottom line. If Tony had been bit and had never turned, then he was _immune._ HYDRA wanted to use him for a cure.

 _They ain’t gonna find one._ HYDRA had been working for years to find a cure. So had the Center for Disease Control. It was hopeless. Meaningless. Bucky didn’t understand why they kept trying.

“So that’s what HYDRA wants you for,” Bucky said.

Tony nodded. “Rhodey says they have some sort of hospital they're going to take me to. I'm the only person who's ever been immune, so. Guess I’m going to be their science experiment. Now will you put the fucking gun down?”

Slowly, Bucky lowered his arm. “Anythin’ else you’re hidin’ from us?”

“No,” Tony said as he stood up. “Nothing else.”

“Good.” Bucky tucked his gun away, then handed Tony the knife. _“Don’t_ use that again unless you have to.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, but didn’t argue. Bucky dropped the scanner back into the mud, following Natasha’s lead as she crawled down the steep ledge toward the entrance to the sewer tunnels. Bucky looked back just once to make sure Tony was close behind them, then ducked down, trailing Natasha into the near darkness.

~

Bucky and Natasha had flashlights attached to their packs - that was a lot easier than holding the damn thing in your mouth while trying to maneuver. The water running through these tunnels was rainwater, Bucky was sure, since these pipes had broken off from the main line when the terrain had started to collapse. That didn’t make the sound any less disgusting, the squelch and splash of muddy water reverberating around them.

He wondered how Natasha felt about all this. She had never believed in a cure any more than Bucky had. Seeing that bite… Had it changed her mind? Was she suddenly buying into HYDRA’s bullshit just because they’d found a kid who by some miracle had survived a bite from an infected? It was impossible to tell. Bucky could anticipate Natasha’s moves, but he could never tell what was inside her head.

It didn’t matter, anyway. This was an assignment. What he and Natasha did or didn’t believe was irrelevant. Tony would be out of their hair soon enough. Then they would have their weapons, and things would go back to normal.

The tunnels let out onto a hill, and the hill rolled down into the remains of downtown Boston. The Capitol building was visible in the distance, but there was no clear path through the rubble. Bucky closed his eyes. They had bombed the city. They had fucking bombed the city to get rid of the infected. He remembered hearing the detonations from inside the Quarantine Zone - he remembered sitting up listening to the blitz, feeling the shockwaves through the floor. How many civilians had died along with the clickers? And how many clickers had survived? A chemical attack would’ve been smarter. But the damn people in charge didn’t understand anything except brute force. Those dead civilians had become necessary collateral damage. It made Bucky want to scream.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

Slowly, Bucky opened his eyes. “Fine,” he said curtly. He took a long, slow breath. The scope of the damage was much more than he’d imagined. The pavement was cracked and broken; the skyscrapers that still stood looked like towers of shattered glass. Every single street sign and traffic light had bent or fallen to the ground.

“Wow,” Natasha said.

Bucky nodded in agreement. “We ain’t gettin’ through there. Tash, you got any ideas?”

Natasha pointed to the skyscraper to their right. It tilted dangerously, but it was still standing. More likely than not, they’d be able to cross the building and come out the other side.

“Good enough for me.”

“Hang on,” Tony said, jogging to catch up with Bucky’s quick stride. “We’re going into _that?_ ”

Bucky turned, not quite sure why he wanted to reassure Tony just as much as chastise him. “You see any other way?”

“No.”

“Then yeah. We’re goin’ into that.”

~

Breaking down the side door was almost too easy. The hinges were rusted out, giving under the lightest pressure. Bucky stepped in first, Natasha close behind, and Tony hesitated before crossing the threshold.

“C’mon. We ain’t got time for you to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Tony grumbled.

Bucky raised his eyebrows just a fraction. “Then get movin’.”

Tony obeyed, following them into the building with deliberately loud footsteps. Bucky rolled his eyes.

It had been an office building, back when Boston had still been a thriving urban center. Cubicles still lined the walls, with a block of desks clumped together in the middle of the room. Most of the chairs were overturned. Computers had fallen, the screens smashed, and the gravity felt off, like Bucky was pitching forward just to stay upright. Given the way the building looked from the outside, it wasn’t comforting. Best to move through here as fast as possible.

“Gonna look around real quick,” Bucky said, crossing to one of the desks and rooting through the drawers. “Then we’ll find the stairwell.”

“I thought we didn’t have time for-”

“We ain’t got time for _bullshit,_ ” Bucky interrupted, glancing up for just an instant to meet Tony’s eyes. “This ain’t that. Weapons and supplies keep us alive.”

When Tony didn’t reply, Bucky moved on to the next desk, going counterclockwise until he’d made his way through half the room. He didn’t find much - a few protein bars - and Natasha didn’t fare much better. Clearly, the people who’d worked here hadn’t planned for an apocalypse.

Finding the stairwell was easy. Making it up the stairs was more difficult. The shift in the building’s structure had created a gap that was too big to cross without help. Bucky made a mental note to pick up the pace; for all they knew, this place might actually collapse on top of them. Bucky hoisted Natasha up first. Tony, though he didn’t weigh much more than Natasha did, wasn’t as agile, and the gap was so large, Bucky had to talk him through each step.

“Hands on my shoulders,” Bucky said, crouching down. Tony looked at him skeptically, and Bucky sighed. “I ain’t gonna drop you. Now c’mon. Hands on my shoulders.”

Tony did as he was told, palms tentative when they came to rest on either side of Bucky’s collar.

“Good. Now, step right here, just one foot.” Bucky laced his hands together, and Tony stepped, still too hesitant. “Gotta put all your weight on me, and then I’m gonna lift you up. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tony said.

As soon as Bucky started to stand, Tony’s grip tightened, an anxious look on his face. Afraid of heights, maybe? Not helpful, considering they would probably traveling over rooftops the rest of the way to the Capitol building. Bucky lifted Tony until Natasha could reach out and take hold of his arms, pulling him the rest of the way up.

“Okay, Buck,” Natasha said. This, Bucky and Natasha had done a thousand times. Bucky took a few steps back to give himself enough momentum, then jogged forward and jumped, gripping Natasha’s arm. She pulled until his hand reached the lip of the landing, and it required very little effort for Bucky to lever himself the rest of the way up. His arm might have looked like garbage, but it still worked just fine.

Bucky should've been thankful for such an easy obstacle. Halfway to the next set of steps, Tony stopped, a dead body blocking their path. _Hell._ Bucky grimaced. That was a half-eaten corpse if he’d ever seen one. Runners had probably caught this poor bastard and gotten distracted halfway through, leaving him half-gutted, bleeding out onto the hardwood.

“Shit,” Tony said.

Natasha leaned forward, examining the body with critical eyes. “This one’s pretty fresh.”

Damn. Where there was one body, there were likely more, and some of them probably weren’t dead. Bucky had hoped to avoid dealing with infected on this trip. Wishful thinking. Outside of the Quarantine Zone, clickers were everywhere. They really had bombed the damn city for nothing.

“There’s a note.” Tony picked up a piece of folded paper, opening it and skimming through. Bucky watched Tony’s face, trying to gauge Tony’s reaction. This was likely Tony's first time seeing a dead body. If it bothered him, he didn't let it show. Tony's face was soft and calm as he passed the paper over.

 

_Field Operations Log-_

_18:08 Negative contact at LZ. Moving patrol west toward city centre._

_21:00 Negative Contact_

_22:18 Negative FUCKING Contact_

_23:12 Pvt. Atwater reports visual/sound contact with Stage-2 Cordyceps infected near collapsed office building. Moving to investigate._

_23:40 MULTIPLE infected contacts. Pvts Atwater. Shah. Coolidge KIA_

_OVERRUN FELL BACK TO BUILDING INTERIOR - AWAITING EVAC._

 

Bucky handed the note to Natasha. She scanned it, then crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground. “We can’t go back now. We’ll just have to be careful.”

Natasha was right. They'd already committed to this path. There wasn't another one, at least, not one that wouldn't make them lose too much ground. They didn’t linger over the body, rounding the next corner and making their way up another flight of stairs.

 _“Hell,_ " Bucky said. Leaning against the door and blocking their path was a dead clicker. Bucky knelt down, trying to peel the damn thing away from where it had melded with the drywall.

“What is that?” Tony asked.

Bucky grunted. “You tellin’ me you ain’t actually seen a clicker before?”

“No. Just runners.” Tony moved into Bucky’s line of vision, staring at the clicker with wide, curious eyes. “What’s wrong with its head?”

Bucky couldn’t help but snort. ‘Wrong’ was a gross understatement. Clickers’ heads looked like chunks of cauliflower mixed with mushrooms, the different pieces layered and overgrown until there was nothing left of a person’s face. The mouth was the only thing preserved, and even that barely resembled anything human. The lips and gums receded until there were only teeth, long, terrifying teeth.

“Years of infection will do that to you,” Natasha replied.

Tony looked terrified and fascinated at the same time. “And you call them clickers because-”

“They use sound to see,” Bucky explained, finally managing to yank the body free. “You hear ’em clickin’, you know they’re lookin’ for you.”

“Oh man.” Tony wrapped his arms around himself, and Bucky got the feeling it wasn’t because of the cold.

“C’mon,” Bucky said, pushing the body aside enough to open the door. “Sooner we keep movin’, sooner we get out of here.”

~

As it turned out, there had only been one clicker left in the building. The rest had been runners, and Bucky had seen to them with his patented ‘sneak up and strangle’ technique before dealing with the clicker. In going ahead to clear a path, he’d picked up enough ingredients for a Molotov cocktail - but he was saving that for when he really needed it. Clickers were easy enough to kill with a shiv, especially if you snuck up on them. Bucky wasn’t about to waste a good weapon on an unworthy target.

They’d made it out of the office building unscathed. Luckily enough, there had been an adjacent building with open windows, and they had crossed over quietly, dropping down into a room full of strange displays.

“This was a museum,” Tony said, approaching one of the glass cases. “Look at all these artifacts.”

“All lost to history now.” Bucky crossed around the case toward the next doorway. Tony and Natasha lagged behind, and Bucky waited for them, crouching down before rounding the next corner.

“I’ve never been in a museum without anyone else around,” Tony whispered, peering up at one of the headless mannequins dressed in eighteenth-century clothes. “And it’s so dark - _fuck_ this place is creepy.”

“Ain’t the worst I’ve seen.” Bucky peered around the corner, straining to hear. Nothing yet. But that didn’t mean they were alone. “Try to be quiet.”

Tony nodded, staying low to the ground as they continued toward the next room.

The door was blocked by a fallen bookshelf; Bucky crawled underneath to lift it enough for Tony and Natasha to get through. “There, go on.”

Natasha went first, and as Tony was crossing, the bookshelf started to creak.

“Oh shit.” Bucky felt the thing become impossibly heavy, and he pulled back the second Tony got clear, a mountain of books cascading down and sealing the door shut.

“You okay?” Natasha called.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll try to find a way around, you keep goin’-”

A noise from the other side, one that hadn’t come from Tony or Natasha.

“Shit. Clickers,” Bucky heard Natasha say. “Tony, run!”

 _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._ Damn those books. Splitting up was never a good idea to begin with, and having Tony glued to her side put her at serious risk. It was one thing when your partner could fight. Tony couldn’t fight. Tony was a damned liability.Bucky ran back the way they had come, looking for another way around. Museums tended to be circular, right? Every room led to a different room and eventually you’d end up exactly where you’d started - yes!

Bucky heard Natasha before he saw her, holding off a runner with one arm while she shot at another runner with her free hand. She was holding her own, but Bucky could finish this quicker. He pulled out his pistol, taking aim at the runner Natasha was holding off - and then he saw Tony, struggling to hold back a clicker.

Bucky changed directions in an instant, two bullets burrowing into the back of the clicker’s head. It dropped, and Tony looked back at Bucky in relief-

“Look out!”

Bucky’s shot went wide. The clicker came at Tony from the side, grabbing onto Tony’s face. Shit. _Shit!_ Bucky fumbled the shiv out of his pack and charged forward, reaching around Tony and plunging the blade into the clicker’s neck. It screeched, then died, going limp and nearly dragging Tony down with it.

Tony stumbled backward, and Bucky let the shiv clatter to the floor, arms around Tony’s torso to hold him steady. Tony trembled, and Bucky held tight until he was sure Tony wasn’t going to collapse, waiting until Tony was sturdy on his feet.

“Fuck,” Tony gasped. _“Fuck._ ”

“You okay?” Bucky asked, releasing his grip.

Tony turned to face Bucky, dragging a shaky hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.”

Bucky wondered if it was the adrenaline haze making Tony look so… _good._ His hair was tousled, his face flushed, and Bucky’s body responded in a way that was entirely unwanted. _Stop it,_ Bucky told himself. Now was not the time. There would never be a good time for something like that, especially not with Tony. Bucky felt a renewed urgency to get Tony out of his hair for good.

“Those things are fucking scary,” Tony said.

“You ain’t wrong,” Bucky replied. He scanned the room and found Natasha waiting for them near the stairs. “You alright, Tash?”

“I’m fine.” She gestured to the open window behind her, turning away. “Come on. Through here.”

She stepped outside, and Bucky waited for Tony before following, ducking his head as they climbed back out into the rain.

~

The clouds finally parted at daybreak. Thankfully, the rooftops were safe and deserted, and Natasha had the city’s layout memorized. By the time they made it back to ground level and reached the stone steps, Bucky could see the pink tint of the sunrise reflecting off of the Capitol building’s golden dome.

“Well. Here we are.” Natasha went in first, pushing the doors open, and Bucky and Tony trailed behind.

The first thing Bucky saw was blood. Blood trickling toward the doors. Blood in a pool near the stairs. Bloody footprints leading to the bodies. Those were HYDRA agents. All dead. Someone had clearly gotten here first.

 _Fuckin’ figures,_ Bucky thought. He had known better than to trust HYDRA. Didn’t know how to keep themselves together for more than ten seconds at a time. Didn’t have the faintest clue how to stay alive.

“Damn it.” Natasha knelt down next to one of the bodies, pulling off the man’s helmet as if she could bring him back to life just by looking at him.

“Tash.” There was no point. They’d done the job. Getting more information out of corpses was impossible and entirely irrelevant.

“No. They must’ve left a note. Instructions. Something.”

Bucky shook his head. What was she doing? This wasn’t the way it worked. They’d fulfilled their end of the bargain. It was time to stop, time to pack up and head home.

“Tash, we ain’t takin’ this any further. They’re dead.” Bucky bent down, but Natasha stood and stepped away before he could even touch her.

“So what’re we supposed to do?”

“What do you mean? We go back. We get the guns, we go home.”

“We can’t just go home. I’m - I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky swallowed down anger and dread in the deafening silence. “Why the hell not?”

“Shit,” Tony breathed. “She’s infected.”

Natasha didn’t say anything. She stared at Bucky, stone-faced, and Bucky bristled. No. That wasn’t possible. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t.

“Tell me that ain’t true.”

Natasha shrugged. “I can’t. He’s… He’s right. I’m infected.”

Bucky pressed his lips tight together. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears; he felt ready to kill Natasha himself just for being so stupid. “Show it to me.”

Natasha pulled back her collar, an angry red bite mark already blistering at the juncture between her shoulder and her neck.

Bucky looked away. “Christ.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And what a fuckin’ help that is.” Bucky knew it was unfair. But this whole damned world was unfair. Natasha ought to know him well enough by now to know he wasn’t going to pretend it was okay, not when he’d just been split open again. Why did he do this to himself? Why the hell did he trust anyone, if they were all just going to die on him in the end?

“You should take Tony back to Steve’s,” Natasha said. “He was part of HYDRA once, he’ll know what to do.”

Bucky choked on a laugh. “If you think I’m gonna keep up with this wild goose chase-”

“It’s _not_ a wild goose chase,” Natasha bit back. “Look. I know you don’t believe in any of this. I honestly don’t blame you. I didn’t want to believe it either. But you can’t deny that he’s bit-” she pointed at Tony- “and he’s not infected. This could be the answer. It could be the end of all of this for everyone.”

“You want me to drag his ass across the county on the off-chance that Steve knows where HYDRA is? Without you?”

“Yes.”

“I ain’t doin’ that.”

“Yes, you are.” Natasha smiled sadly. “Consider it my last request.”

 _Fuck._ Natasha knew he wouldn’t say no to something like that.

Bucky breathed out, his chest imploding, his whole world caving in invisibly around him. “And what’re you gonna do?”

Bucky turned toward the door at the sound of voices outside.

“I’m going to buy you some time.”

More noise from outside. Soldiers. They were getting closer; Bucky could hear them on the steps.

“Ain’t gonna let you die like that.” That would be death by firing squad. All she had was a pistol - they had semi-automatic weapons. Natasha deserved better.

“And I’m not going to let you die at all.” Natasha pulled out her pistol, gesturing toward the stairs. “Go. This is what I want.”

“Tash.” Bucky didn’t know what he wanted to say. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Natasha shook her head. _“Go._ ”

It was too much, and Bucky wished he could make it all stop. He needed time. Time to get his bearings. Time to decide what he wanted to do and not what Natasha expected of him. He couldn’t make choices this way, not when he felt so paralyzed he couldn't breathe.

 _No time. Gotta move._ Bucky let his anger burn away any lingering fondness for Natasha, clenching his jaw with firm resolve.

“Tony.” Bucky took a few steps back, gesturing for Tony to follow. “Get a move on.”

Bucky spared Natasha one final look before sprinting up the stairs. The sound of a battering ram against the door echoed through the hall, and Bucky ran faster, forcing them forward down a long hallway, Tony close on Bucky’s heels.

Bucky only hesitated for an instant when he heard the soldiers open fire.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trigger warning for past and discovered suicide in this chapter. (Also past minor character death.)
> 
> Many thanks to [folklejend](https://folklejend.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!

Getting out of the Capitol building had been a nightmare.

Those soldiers had been out for blood, and Tony had been too slow more than once. It was infuriating. Tony was a handicap. An impairment. And on top of that, Tony was the only person in the world still giving Bucky any purpose. Natasha had left Bucky with a single goal: get Tony to Steve’s. If Tony died on Bucky’s watch - well. Then Bucky would’ve failed. And he’d already failed one too many times. He wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Bucky had killed the soldiers in the Capitol building. He’d taken out every last one of them, not stopping until he and Tony had been the only two people still breathing. Bucky had blown through the last of his ammo, but damn if he had missed a single shot. He wasn’t playing games. Not any more.

Once Tony had caught his breath, Bucky had started them in the direction of Clint’s town. They needed a vehicle, and Bucky was damn sure Clint would have one.

How had he gotten himself into this? When he and Natasha had first agreed to this deal, it had been about weapons. When had it become about calling in favors and crossing the country instead of taking home the payload and leaving well enough alone?

Clint’s town was a day’s walk from Boston’s city center. Bucky hadn’t given them any time to stop and rest until they’d reached the wooded outskirts. When it had finally gotten dark, Bucky had found them an abandoned car to sleep in, and they’d started off again at sunrise, keeping a slow but steady pace until they’d made it to the first real neighborhood street.

Now it was midday, and they’d found the first of Clint’s booby traps: a tripwire with an explosive set to detonate when touched.

 _Still as paranoid as ever,_ Bucky thought. “Stand back,” he said to Tony, picking up an empty bottle and tossing it at the wire. He shielded his face as the thing exploded, the sound ringing in his ears.

“Is this guy the only one who lives here?” Tony asked.

“Yep. He’s got the whole town to himself. Apart from the clickers, that is.”

“I’m assuming there are a lot of traps like this?”

“He’s famous for ’em.” Bucky stepped cautiously forward into the alley, then tilted his head at Tony. “C’mon.”

Bucky would never get used to this, the strange, eerie feeling of being alone in a place that ought to be full of people. He could imagine families in these houses. He could imagine children playing in the yard, swingsets creaking, dogs barking. He could picture a father outside at the grill, making burgers for the Fourth of July. He could hear the sound of cars pulling into driveways and garage doors opening and closing. He could see it all so clearly in his mind’s eye, it made the reality that much more stark.

“There’s another tripwire up ahead,” Tony said, slowing and waiting for Bucky to catch up.

Bucky looked for something to throw at it and found a stray piece of wood. He tossed it, and one explosive went off, then another, then another. “Shit. Asshole set up triple tripwires.”

“Did you hear that?” Tony asked.

Bucky didn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. And then-

Shit. Bucky was damn tired of running.

“Go,” he said to Tony, but obviously the order wasn’t urgent enough. “Move! Now!”

“What about the booby traps?”

“Gonna have to hope that was the last one.”

Bucky glanced behind them and saw shadows from around the corner. He shoved Tony forward, then started running. The alley let out into a cul-de-sac, and Bucky ran back out toward the street, not stopping, not thinking, until something reached out and grabbed him. Bucky jerked away, then ground to a halt when he saw it was Clint.

_Son of a bitch._

“What’re you doing setting off all my traps?” Clint demanded.

“Tryin’ to find you,” Bucky said, and shit, there were the runners, taking those loud, screeching breaths that made them sound insane. “You got a place for us to hide from them?”

“Through here.”

Damn, those runners were fast. Bucky wondered how that was possible. Did they not build up lactic acid like normal bodies did? Or were their brains so compromised that they just didn’t care? Bucky followed Clint toward the center of town, into the parking lot of an abandoned restaurant. The back door was unlocked, and Clint held it open for them, waiting until Tony and Bucky had stumbled through before slamming it shut.

Clint barred the door with a piece of plywood, and Bucky saw Tony wince at the sound of runners hitting the door from outside, the force making the wall shake. Clint took them through another door, up into the main seating area of the restaurant. The windows were boarded up, and only small slivers of light crept through the cracks. Safe, probably. Safer than they had been outside, at least.

Out of nowhere, Clint was holding handcuffs, and he manhandled Tony backward, cuffing one of Tony’s hands to the exposed pipe hanging from the ceiling.

“Whoa, hey, what the hell are you doing?” Tony yelped, jerking against the cuff.

“What the hell are _you_ doing in my town?” Clint barked back, fixing Bucky with a narrow-eyed stare. “And what are _you_ doing, bringing a kid here?”

“I’m not a kid,” Tony said, and before Bucky could stop him, Tony had yanked himself free by pulling the pipe entirely away. He ran forward and swung at Clint, making contact with Clint’s arm.

“Son of a bitch!” Clint stepped back, and Bucky grabbed the pipe, stopping it cold as Tony tried to swing it a second time.

“Stop,” Bucky growled.

“But he cuffed me-”

“With good reason, apparently!” Clint tried to advance on Tony, and Bucky stepped between them.

“Tony. You ain’t gonna hit Clint.”

Tony’s mutinous expression didn’t change, but he nodded, letting the pipe fall from his hand. Something like pride flickered in Bucky’s chest. Tony might have been a pain in Bucky’s ass, but damn, did he have spirit. Not everyone would've been willing to go after Clint like that.

“And you,” Bucky said, turning to Clint. “You’re gonna uncuff him. He’s with me.”

For a few seconds, it looked like Clint wasn’t going to listen. Clint glared at Tony, seething, then took the key off of the hostess stand and thrust it into Bucky’s hand. “There. Now can we get to what it is you’re doing here?”

Bucky sighed, gesturing for Tony to hold out his hand. “I need a favor,” Bucky said, turning the key and unlocking the cuffs.

“Thanks,” Tony mumbled, rubbing at his wrist.

Bucky tossed the cuffs and the key onto the hostess stand, then turned again to meet Clint’s eyes.

“You think I owe you a favor?” Clint asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I do.”

Clint mulled it over, his lips pursed like he had just sucked on a lemon. “What kind of favor?”

“A car,” Bucky said.

Clint glanced at Tony, unconvinced. “I think you and I should talk alone.”

“Fine.” Bucky started toward the door to the kitchen. “Tony, stay here. We’ll be done in a minute.”

“And don’t touch my stuff,” Clint said, pointing an accusing finger at Tony before following Bucky out of the room.

~

“So.” Clint looked at Bucky appraisingly. “What’s this really about?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Already told you. I need a car.”

“Why?”

“What business is it of yours why I need it?”

Clint squinted at him. “You come in here looking like hell, you drag that kid along with you, you set off half my traps, and you expect me to just hand you what you want?”

“Yes,” Bucky said. “You owe me. Remember?”

“Like I could forget.” Clint blew out a breath. It had taken Bucky too long to notice, but Clint looked tired. Thinner than he’d been the last time they’d met, with more grey hairs filling in near his temples. The lines on his face were more pronounced, and his mouth hung down in a permanent frown.

“Who is that kid, anyway?” Clint asked.

Bucky shrugged. “He ain’t important.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Clint paused, obviously thinking through his next words. “Where’s Natasha?”

Bucky didn't answer. “Look. I just need a car. A truck. Whatever you got.”

Clint looked at him for a long time, probably thinking through why Bucky might not want to talk about Natasha. _Because she’s dead. They’re all dead - and if they’re not, they will be soon._

“Strictly speaking, I don’t have anything. Coulson took the car when he left.” Clint’s voice grew quiet, and Bucky shook off a small pang of sympathy. He didn’t give a shit about Clint’s love life. Why should it matter to him if Clint was still torn up about Coulson taking off?

“Can you get it back?”

Clint nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good. Then let’s go. Sooner you get me what I want, the sooner you don’t have to see me again.”

Clint huffed a laugh, and Bucky could see him trying not to smile. “Fine.” Clint picked up his bow, then slung the quiver over his shoulder. “But after this, no more favors. We’re even. Deal?”

Bucky inclined his head. “Deal.”

~

“Hey! I told you not to touch anything!”

Bucky watched in amusement as Clint stormed across the room to snatch the comic book out of Tony’s hands.

“I was just _reading,_ ” Tony said. “You guys left me all alone, what was I supposed to do to entertain myself? All your machinery is shit, I can’t build anything, so-”

“Barnes, where the hell did you find this guy?”

“Let’s just stop bickerin’ and suit up,” Bucky said, taking off his backpack and setting it down on the bar. “I got a couple weapons that could use upgrades. Got anythin’ I can use to make a better scope?”

“I can do you one better,” Clint said, crossing the room to the makeshift weapons locker. “Let me grab you my spare bow.”

“What about me?” Tony asked. “Don’t I get a cool weapon?”

“I’m thinking your _cool weapon_ should be staying out of our way,” Clint called, his voice muffled.

Bucky shouldn’t have been so easily manipulated by Tony’s plaintive look, damn it. There was something about Tony that made Bucky want to give him anything he wanted.

_It ain’t him, Barnes. It’s you. You’re goin’ soft._

“I’ll give you a pistol if you can promise you know how to use it.”

Tony scoffed. “Of course I know how to use it.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, handing over the pistol. “Show me.”

“Safety, point, shoot, reload. Pretty standard,” Tony said, demonstrating each step. “Never point the gun at something you don’t plan to shoot at. Always use your eye-line to aim. Anything I’m missing?”

“Don’t shoot unless you have to. You ain’t gonna find a lot of ammo. And guns are fuckin’ loud. You fire, you’re gonna draw attention. Gotta be ready for that.”

Tony nodded, slipping the gun into his back pocket. “Thanks.”

Bucky cobbled together another shiv with the duct tape left sitting out on the bar, then loaded up on whatever ammo he could find as he waited for Clint to find that bow. Tony walked aimlessly around the room, picking up a second comic book.

“Why does he even have these?” Tony asked, flipping quickly through the pages. “ _Endure and Survive._ Does that mean something? Or is it just a comic book?”

“Just a comic book,” Clint replied, finally bringing the bow over to Bucky. “Started finding them in town. Seems like they were popular in the few years before the outbreak - and I told you _not to touch anything._ ”

Tony set the comic down deliberately on the bar next to Bucky, crossing his arms. “Sorry. You guys are just taking forever.”

Clint rolled his eyes and crossed back to the weapons locker, assembling a backpack of his own. Bucky looked up to make sure Clint couldn’t see, then stuffed the comic book into the back pocket of the backpack.

“What about this?” Tony asked, showing Bucky a lighter he’d picked up off one of the restaurant tables.

“Keep that. Might come in handy.” Bucky swung the backpack on over his shoulders, then looped the bow over his left arm. “Well, I’m ready.”

“Me too,” Clint said. Bucky followed him toward the back door, making sure that Tony kept up the pace.

Clint led them around the back into a cellar, which eventually let out into the sanctuary of the town’s small church. An enormous cross hung on the wall behind the pulpit, and there were a few dead bodies in the pews. Some looked like they were still praying.

“Wow,” Tony whispered. “I haven’t been in a church since my parents died.”

“When was that?”

“Nine years ago.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgment. “So you been alone a long time.”

“Yeah.” Tony got caught up staring at the stained-glass windows, and Bucky didn’t try to rush him along. Bucky stood a few paces behind him instead, tracking his gaze, wondering if he was gaining anything by looking at all these religious symbols.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tony murmured.

“Surprised the windows ain’t broken,” Bucky said in reply.

“They didn’t bomb this far out,” Clint explained. “And those windows are too high for infected to get at.”

Bucky could see different parts of the religious story in each window. The birth of Christ; the children gathering around the savior; the crucifixion. Bucky had believed in all that once. He’d believed that everything happened for a reason, that some higher power had the final say. Since the outbreak, Bucky had stopped believing in anything. There wasn’t any God, at least, not one who listened to prayers. Death was the only god Bucky knew. And he was far from merciful.

Whether or not he believed their message, the windows were beautiful. The colors were vibrant. The style was clear. Bucky had forgotten what art even looked like. No one made things just for the sake of making them any more.

The graveyard outside the church was chilling. The tombstones had faded into a light grey color, the color of dead, ashen skin, the color of ghosts. Bucky was thankful that they weren’t crossing through this part of town at night.

Tony paused to read the tombstones, muttering the names out loud. Bucky didn’t quite know what that was for. What good did it do, acknowledging the dead? They were dead. There was no one left in those graves to hear Tony saying the names.

Bucky heard the clickers in the adjacent yard before he saw them. He gestured at Clint to come with him to look. Together they peered over the fence: three clickers, pacing back and forth.

“Okay, Barnes. I’ve got these guys,” Clint said, pulling out his bow and drawing an arrow.

Tony crept forward to watch, fascinated, as Clint aimed, sinking the arrow into the first clicker’s head.

“Damn,” Tony whispered. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“He’s a sharpshooter. Used to call him Hawkeye, back before he got all reclusive.”

“I did not get reclusive. I just prefer to be alone.” Clint lined up another perfect shot. Two clickers down, one to go. It was too bad Clint couldn’t come with them to Steve’s. Then again, Clint was a liability, too. Bucky could only handle one of those at a time.

The third clicker went down with a small squawk, and they climbed the fence, dropping down into the yard below.

“Almost there. Through this house, and then across the street, toward the high school,” Clint instructed.

Bucky combed the house for supplies, starting on the top floor and working his way down. He found another one of those comics, which he tucked away, and a box of band-aids, which wasn’t helpful for big injuries, but might do for the smaller ones. Blisters, scrapes. Band-aids were a commodity, but Bucky had room in his bag, and they were nice to have.

Tony found a set of kitchen knives, only one of which was sharp enough to use, in Bucky’s estimation. Bucky let Tony keep it, if only because eventually, that first knife was going to break.

The schoolyard was an obstacle course with low visibility. Abandoned cars and school buses made it difficult to see, and behind the chain link fence, Bucky could make out runners and clickers in the distance. This wasn’t a scenario where Bucky could kill every single one. A systematic approach wouldn’t work. They were going to have to stay low and hope not too many of those runners saw them.

“Gonna have to make a run for it,” Bucky said. “Otherwise, we ain’t gettin’ inside. Tony, stick with me. Don’t stop runnin’ until the door’s closed behind us. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tony said.

Bucky was starting to like the sound of those two words.

_Be careful, Barnes. He ain’t your pal. He’s your assignment. Remember?_

“You ready?” Bucky asked, and Tony nodded. “Good. On my count. Three. Two. _Go.”_

~

_Clang!_

The door swung closed, and Tony leaned back against it, breathing hard. Clint was already racing toward the bleachers.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, and Tony nodded, not quite capable of speech. They’d had to run fast to get away from those runners. The single pack had turned into a horde, and there was no sense shooting into a horde. The only way to escape a pack like that was to outrun them.

They’d ended up in the school gym, and damn it, the doors weren’t going to hold, not without something to bar them with. Bucky scanned the room, spotting some folding chairs not too far off.

“You think you can hold this for a second?”

Tony nodded, breathless, and Bucky jogged over to retrieve the chairs, jamming them up into the handles to bar the doors.

“Up here,” Clint called. He’d somehow climbed to the top of the bleachers even though they hadn’t been pulled out; sometimes Bucky wondered if the man really was a damn bird. “Here, hoist Tony up. We can go through this window and get around them on the outside.”

It was a good plan. A great plan. But the doors didn’t hold quite long enough. Bucky had Tony hoisted up when the metal creaked, then bent, then broke, and three runners tore into the room.

“Shit!’ Tony jumped down, and Bucky could’ve strangled him. He was supposed to stay out of danger, not hop right back into it!

“Let me handle this,” Bucky said. “Clint, can you cover me?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Bucky pulled the pistol out of his pack. “Tony, get behind somethin’. Now.”

There was plenty of debris in the middle of the gym, and Tony ran to hide behind a wooden crate while Bucky waited out the runners. They never attacked in a sensible pattern. One took off running in the opposite direction, while the other two came at Bucky straight on. The first impaled his chin on Bucky’s knife; the second dropped to the ground, her neck broken. Bucky thought very seriously about telling Tony not to watch, but just then the third runner jumped over the shipping crate, vaulting over Tony’s head straight toward Bucky.

 _Crack!_ The runner went down, a bullet between the eyes.

“Thanks, Clint,” Bucky called, wiping the bloody blade on his jeans.

“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got more incoming.”

Three more waves of runners, and between the two of them, they all went down. Of course, that wasn’t the end of it. The noise had attracted clickers. Two small clickers-

And one _huge_ one.

It looked like a cross between an infected and a giant. It had grown up to nearly twice its normal size, its head and stomach engorged, its hands enormous, with nails that could pierce skin.

 _Bloater,_ Bucky thought.

Clint took out one of the clickers with an arrow, trying not to draw attention. The second arrow hit wide of the mark - damn twitchy clicker - and Bucky had to use a shiv, cutting the clicker’s neck open and getting way too up-close-and-personal with the thing’s rotting teeth. Bucky gasped, and Clint yelled, “Bucky, look out!” just in time for him to tuck and roll out of the way, avoiding a blast of superheated slime as it sailed toward his head.

“Holy fuck, what _is_ that?”

“Bloater,” Bucky said, staying crouched next to Tony. “You stay a clicker long enough, you turn into one of them.”

“And they throw flaming mucus at you?” Tony's eyes were wide, and he lowered his head even further as if that would protect him more. “Shit. That's… How do we stop it?”

Fire. The best way to stop a bloater was to light it up. Bucky slipped his backpack off, dropping it quietly in front of him. “Still got that lighter?”

“Yeah.” Tony fumbled it out of his pocket, watching as Bucky pulled out a cloth and a bottle of tequila. “Molotov cocktail?”

“That’s right.”

“You're sure you can hit it?”

“I got good aim.” Bucky shook the bottle to make sure the cloth was soaked, then held it out. “Okay. Light ’er up.”

The flame flickered for a moment before it finally took, the corner of the cloth igniting and turning brown. Bucky peered over the storage crate, took aim, and threw.

The bloater caught fire, the spores on its skin exploding on contact. Tony gasped, standing to watch with fascinated eyes. Bucky took hold of Tony’s shoulders and dragged him backward out of range, not letting go until the smoke cleared.

The damn thing was still alive. It was charred, its skin stained black, but it was still alive.

“Fuck,” Tony choked, looking up at Bucky. “That seriously didn’t kill it?”

“Sometimes they need a little more persuadin’,” Bucky said. He shifted, taking out his shotgun. “This should take care of it.”

Bucky walked toward the bloater like a man on a mission, dodging out of the way as it tried to breathe that disgusting mucus, aiming the shotgun at its giant head. He was an arm’s length away, which was probably too close, but Bucky was damn tired, and he didn’t know what was good for him any more.

He fired the shotgun once, and the bloater went to its knees. A second time, and the thing’s head exploded, bits of mutated skin spraying everywhere. Bucky tucked the shotgun away, unfazed, watching as a splatter of blood trickled down his front.

“Shit,” Tony said, approaching Bucky, hesitating before he got too close. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Bucky kicked the bloater’s body for good measure, then took a step back. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

~

Bucky didn’t know if he was just imagining it, but it seemed like Tony hung closer as they walked the last few yards toward Coulson’s driveway. Was Tony worried about him? Or did Tony just feel safer being closer? The first one was insulting, but the second - well, Bucky wasn’t going to argue. He’d walked right up to a bloater and shot it in the face. If this was hero-worship, Bucky thought it might be just a little bit justified.

Bucky was also surprised to find that he didn’t mind Tony’s company. Tony had done what Bucky had instructed; he’d stayed down and well out of the way. Having someone to fight with was better than being alone, even if Bucky had done all of the fighting himself. Maybe Tony wasn’t as much of a pain in the ass as Bucky had first thought.

Clint was the first to make it up the steep driveway. Bucky followed close behind, lifting up on the garage door just long enough to let Tony and Clint pass underneath, then slipping to the other side and letting the metal drop.

“Well. There’s your ride,” Clint said, gesturing to the truck parked in the garage.

“That’ll do.”

Clint led the way into the house, treading carefully, as if Coulson might’ve put up booby traps of his own.

“Go ahead and take what you want,” Clint said as they filed in after him. “Looks like Phil doesn’t care-” Clint’s voice broke and he trailed off, staring up at the ceiling. "Who comes in here.”

Bucky followed Clint’s gaze, looking up. “Hell.”

There, suspended from the ceiling, was Coulson’s lifeless body. There was a rope tied around his neck, looped through a hook in the ceiling and tied to one of the legs of the table. Bucky took a step closer. The bite marks hadn’t been visible before, but now Bucky could see them all over Coulson’s arms and neck.

“Who’s that?” Tony asked.

“That,” Clint said, pulling out a knife to cut Coulson down, “was my idiot partner.”

Clint’s voice broke, and he sawed away at the rope, hanging onto it to keep Coulson’s body from dropping too quickly to the ground.

Tony took in a breath as if to speak, and Bucky shook his head. There was nothing anyone could say that would help. Natasha. Coulson. Everyone died in the end.

Clint stood for a long time, staring down at Coulson’s body. After what felt like ages, he knelt down, slipping the rope off of Coulson’s neck.

“You couldn’t have waited for me?” Clint’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He hung his head, and he made a noise halfway between a growl and a sob. A rustle of fabric, and then Clint turned, looking back at Bucky.

“Well, Barnes?" Clint held up his hand and tossed Bucky the keys, which had obviously been in Coulson's pocket. "You have your car. Now get the hell out of here.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trigger warning for past attempted suicide, suicide, and major/minor character deaths.
> 
> Many thanks to [folklejend](https://folklejend.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!

It was strange, driving with no one else on the road. Hell, it was strange driving at all. Bucky hadn’t driven a car since the night of the outbreak. The feeling was unsettling. Bucky could’ve so easily pretended that none of this was real, that the cordyceps didn’t exist and he was on his weekly drive to the grocery store.

This world really never stopped kicking the shit out of you.

They'd been driving a few hours. After a pit stop half an hour back, Bucky had insisted that Tony take the backseat and try to sleep. Tony had argued, and Bucky had flat out refused to start the car until Tony had done as he was told. Bucky hated to admit it, but he admired Tony’s faithful mistrust of authority figures. Even if it made things difficult for Bucky, it was refreshing to know that there were still people who were as wary of blind trust as Bucky was.

The rain had started coming down fifty miles ago, and it hadn't let up. Bucky had the wipers notched up to half. He'd given up on trying to enjoy the view; he couldn't see anything but sheets of rain all around. He allowed himself just a minute to relax, irritation and anxiety dulled by the steady sound of raindrops hitting metal.

Bucky glanced briefly into the rearview. Tony was still sitting up, staring out the window, his breath fogging up the glass.

“Hey. You ain’t sittin’ back there to sightsee.”

“I’m not tired.”

“That ain’t my problem. Lie down and close your eyes.”

Looking absolutely mutinous, Tony obeyed, plopping his backpack down on the seat to use as a pillow. He curled his knees up and turned away, every movement reminding Bucky of a brooding teenager.

_Oh well. Least he’s listenin’._

Another few minutes of rain, and Tony broke the silence. “I did it on purpose.”

Bucky sighed. He’d said sleep, not _talk_. “Did what?”

“Got myself infected.”

The words came out sounding small, like maybe Tony hoped Bucky wouldn't hear them. Bucky’s shoulders grew stiff, and he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Wanna elaborate on that?”

Tony rolled over onto his back, hands sliding up into his hair before he laced them together behind his head. “I thought it would be more - I don't know. Poetic.” Bucky looked up just in time to catch Tony rolling his eyes. “Really, I was just too scared to do it to myself. And I didn't… I figured if I got bit, I could play it off. Call it an accident. Even if it wasn't.”

 _Shit_.

Not only was Tony the only person who'd ever survived a bite from an infected - he'd done it to himself. It hadn't been an accident or bad luck. It had been an attempt at suicide.

Bucky couldn't wrap his head around it. He would sooner shoot himself than let one of those things get its hands on him. Clearly, there was more going on with Tony than Bucky had first imagined. “Hell of a way to end your own life.”

“Yeah, well. It didn't work.” Tony met Bucky’s eyes in the mirror, and Bucky looked away. “I bet you think I'm just stupid and spoiled. That I was being dramatic.”

“That ain’t what I think.” Well. Maybe Bucky did think it. A less dramatic person would've put a pistol in his mouth and been done with it. But that wasn't _all_ Bucky thought. Tony was smart. Smart people didn't try to kill themselves without a good reason.

“It’s just - I remember what it used to be like. What the world used to be like.” Tony sounded so wistful, it made Bucky’s throat tight. “And one day I just realized it would never be that way again. I was doomed to going through the same routine every day for the rest of my life, over and over until I died. I was just trapped, you know? I didn't see another way out.”

Bucky couldn’t blame Tony for that. There wasn’t another way out. If you didn’t like what the world had turned into, death was was the only real means of escape.

“You still feel like that?” Bucky asked.

Tony shrugged helplessly. “No. I don't know. I haven't had time to think about it. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I'm humanity's last hope, so. What I want isn't relevant.”

Bucky didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t disagree, not when Tony was right. What Tony wanted wasn’t any more relevant than what Bucky wanted. It wasn’t about want anymore. It was about survival.

~

Bucky kept them on the freeway until the road became impassable and he had to divert to the exit into the city. They were in Pittsburgh, or at least, that was what the road signs said. Tony had slept for a few hours, but now he was awake, crawling forward into the front seat.

“Saved that comic book,” Bucky said, gesturing at his backpack.

“You mean you actually stole something from Clint?”

Bucky smirked. “He won’t know it’s gone. Seemed like you wanted to read it.”

“I do,” Tony said, looking cautiously pleased. He was about to open Bucky’s backpack when Bucky slammed on the brake.

There was a man in the middle of the road trying to wave them down.

“Help me,” the man said, clutching at his side. “Please, I’m hurt.”

Without being told, Tony buckled his seatbelt. “He’s not really hurt, is he?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. He ain’t.”

Bucky accelerated hard. The engine revved as Bucky shifted gears, then started forward as fast as he could go. The man in the middle of the road jumped backward, pulling out a pistol and shooting at the windshield. The glass cracked and splintered, but Bucky didn’t stop, driving straight past two more men toward the underpass.

Tony saw the truck coming at them before Bucky did. “Look out!”

Bucky couldn’t swerve in time. The truck plowed into them from the side, and they skidded left, driving straight through a storefront window and crashing into a display case inside.

Damn it. That was going to hurt like hell tomorrow. The front of the truck was bent beyond repair, and those hunters were probably still on their tails. They needed to move.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“I’m okay,” Tony said, his voice high and strained.

“Then move,” Bucky said, reaching across and opening Tony’s door for him. Bucky had just stepped out of the truck when one of the hunters grabbed Tony by the arm, hauling him out of the vehicle.

“Let me go!”

Before Bucky could grab on, someone swung at him with a bat, knocking the air right out of him. The hunter grabbed Bucky by the hair and dragged him toward the broken glass; Bucky fought back, jamming an elbow into the hunter’s nose. The hunter dropped, unconscious.

“Bucky-”

Shit. The other hunter was holding Tony down. Bucky ran straight for him, knocking him flat on his back, then pressed a forearm into his windpipe until he stopped breathing.

“Those fuckers were waiting for us,” Tony breathed.

Bucky held out a hand to help him up. “Sure were. Now we gotta get out of here, before more of them-”

The rest of Bucky’s words were choked out as another hunter emerged from behind the truck, pulling Bucky back and pinning him to the ground.

“Fuck!” Two big hands closed around Bucky’s throat, and Bucky struggled, trying to get free-

And then Tony was behind the hunter, driving that kitchen knife straight into his neck. The hunter gasped. His grip went slack and he tipped over, his lifeless body crumpling to the ground.

“Oh shit.” Tony dropped to his knees, looking white as a sheet. “Fuck.”

“Hey.” Bucky scrambled up, one palm cupping Tony’s cheek. “Hey. Look at me.”

Tony’s wide eyes met Bucky’s. “I - I’ve never done that before.”

“You did what you had to do.” Tony was still staring at the body, and Bucky moved closer, resting both hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Tell me somethin’. What’re you stayin’ alive for?”

“I’m immune,” Tony said quietly. “I can help make a cure.”

“That ain’t good enough. Rule number one out here: you look out for your family and yourself. Ain't anything else more important than that.”

“Not even the future of the human race?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not even that. You think having a higher purpose motivates a person to stay alive? It doesn’t. Lookin’ out for you and the people you care about, _that’s_ what’ll keep you goin’ when nothin’ else will.”

Tony still looked unconvinced.

“Look,” Bucky tried again. “How many HYDRA agents have we seen dead already?”

Tony’s eyes flickered with doubt.

“I’m not sayin’ their cause ain’t noble. I’m sayin’ it ain’t enough.”

“So you want me to be selfish.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Tony smiled a little. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good.” Bucky stood up, kicking the hunter’s body aside. “Now. Let’s find a way around these assholes.”

~

“Hey,” Tony said as they stepped into the hotel lobby. “I’ve been here before.”

The hotel was about a mile from where they’d encountered the hunters. They’d managed to stay hidden, but they’d seen hunters posted at nearly every street corner. Finally, Bucky had decided that being out in the open was no longer the safest option. They had found their way under another overpass and waited for an opening, then climbed up to the entrance of one of Pittsburgh’s old hotels, slipping inside unnoticed.

“Really?” Bucky asked. Bucky had never been to Pittsburgh before, but the remains of the hotel spoke to how much it must have looked like every other hotel in every other big city.

“When I was a kid.” Tony stared up at the ceiling. “I came to a science convention here before some big decathlon. I remember thinking this place was small.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is, you’ve never been easily impressed.”

“Ha, ha. Yes, my standards are too impossibly high for me to be satisfied with a place like this.”

Bucky smirked at Tony’s sarcasm, crossing behind the concierge desk to root through the drawers.

“You’re a ‘leave no stone unturned’ kind of guy, aren’t you?” Tony asked, watching Bucky from across the room.

“People who don’t find things usually didn’t spend enough time lookin’.”

“Okay. I guess I can get onboard with that.” Bucky lifted his head in time to see Tony vaulting over the desk, landing with a thunk right next to Bucky. “We’re looking for the combination for that safe, right?”

Bucky looked down at the safe in the corner, then back up at Tony. “Yeah. That’d be a start.”

“I’m betting it’s either back here somewhere, or behind the bar. I’ll go check over there.”

Tony practically skipped over to the bar, and Bucky returned his focus to the drawers and cabinets until Tony drew his attention again.

“What’re you having?” Tony asked.

Bucky glanced over and raised an eyebrow, fighting hard not to smirk. Tony had pulled out bar rag and thrown it over his shoulder. By all rights, he looked like a bartender - the kind of bartender Bucky would’ve invited home after the bar had closed.

“Malort. Straight up.”

“Oh my god, gross.” Tony wrinkled his nose, and Bucky laughed. “What? Just because I was in a Military camp doesn't mean I didn't drink. I've had Malort. Tastes disgusting. The bartender rejects your choice.”

Bucky smiled. “Just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Tony snorted his amusement. “I used to have a fake ID, you know. I got tired of Rhodey going out without me, so I finally got one senior year. Came into places like this all the time. Upscale breweries. Classy hotel bars. Nobody even bothered to card me.”

“That’s ’cause they thought you were cute.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You think?”

 _Shit._ Maybe that hadn’t sounded as casual as Bucky had meant it to.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, looking away without waiting for Tony’s reaction. He busied himself looking for that damned combination, and when he finally found it tucked underneath a pile of paperwork inside one of the drawers, Tony hopped over the bar and joined him.

There were some first aid supplies, which they desperately needed, a few boxes of ammo, a few blades, and a hotel card key. Tony unzipped Bucky’s backpack and stowed the loot inside, careful and methodical until the safe was empty.

“There you go.” Tony zipped up the backpack and patted it for good measure. “I’ve still got room in mine if we find anything else.”

“Good. Now, let’s see if we can find a way upstairs.”

Tony held up the card key between two fingers. “Think this might help?”

 _Such a smart-ass,_ Bucky thought.

He took the key, looking at both sides before stowing it in his pocket. “I’m thinkin’ it might.”

~

An hour later, Bucky and Tony had made it to the top floor and climbed out onto the roof.

“Okay,” Tony said, scanning the buildings nearest to them. “So what now?”

“We go inside one of those,” Bucky replied, his eyes landing on the rooftop garden of an apartment complex just a few feet below them.

“Are…” Tony swallowed. “Are we jumping down?”

Right. Heights. Bucky had forgotten that tense moment when he had hoisted Tony up back in the office building. Tony was afraid of heights.

“You can’t fall,” Bucky said reassuringly. “Ain’t a big enough gap between buildings. But if you want, I’ll go first.”

“You promise to catch me?” Tony asked.

“Only if you need it.”

Bucky jumped down onto the roof. It was only the difference of a few feet, and the space between the buildings was small. Tony would be able to make this jump, no problem.

When Tony hesitated, Bucky held out his hand. “C’mon. Ain’t gonna let you fall.”

Tony frowned, biting his lip, then jumped. He landed a few feet away from Bucky, his hands braced on the ground. Bucky helped him up, then guided them toward one of the open windows.

“Through here.” They stepped down into a studio apartment, and Bucky headed toward the next exit. Bucky opened the bedroom door-

And came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

“What the hell?” Bucky took a stumbling step backward, putting himself in front of Tony as the kid holding the gun advanced on them.

“Don’t move,” the kid said.

Suddenly another man was behind him, saying, “Whoa! Pete, stand down. They're friendly.”

The kid scowled, hesitating. “How can you tell?”

“I just can. Now give me back my gun.” The man held out his hand, and Peter handed it over. “Sorry about that. I’m Wade. This is Peter.”

“Bucky. This is Tony.”

“Nice to meet you.” Wade pocketed the gun, pulling his hood down. “So. Those fuckers chasing you, too?”

“The hunters? Been tryin’ to avoid ’em since we got to town.”

Wade nodded in understanding. “We lost track of our group. Told them to meet us at the radio tower, but we haven’t been able to get past the barricade… But with someone like you, maybe we’d stand a chance.”

“Barricade?” Bucky asked.

“Those hunters guard the entrances and exits to the city. During the day it’s swamped, but at night it’s a skeleton crew. I’m betting you and I could take them out.”

Bucky stared at Wade, trying to decide if this would be worth the trouble.

“How about you show us the barricade,” Bucky said, “then we’ll see about taking them out.”

~

Wade was a piece of work. He had commentary on everything, and he couldn’t stop running his damn mouth. But he was right about the barricade. If they could take the hunters out, that was their easiest path forward.

Peter, if anything, seemed to be Wade’s polar opposite. He was quiet, although Bucky could hear him talking to Tony as they moved down through the building across from the barricade, waiting for nightfall.

How Peter and Wade had ended up traveling together, Bucky would never know. He didn’t plan to ask - he didn’t need personal details. He and Tony wouldn’t be with Wade and Peter for long, if Bucky had anything to say about it.

Wade had been right about the skeleton crew, too. As soon as night fell, Bucky counted the men from the window. There were only five. Five was nothing. Five, Bucky could handle on his own.

“You and Peter stay back here,” Bucky said to Tony as soon as they’d made it outside. “Wade and I will take out the guards, and then you can come on up.”

“I can help, you know.”

“Not sayin’ you ain’t capable.” Bucky lowered his head to better meet Tony’s eyes. “Just ain’t necessary to put yourself at risk. Got it?”

Tony nodded reluctantly. “Got it.”

~

Wade wasn’t a fan of the quiet kill. Bucky thought back to Natasha, to her stealth and precision - Wade had none of it. Wade liked to bust in and take charge with stupid tricks and heavy fire, and all Bucky could do was fucking play along, blowing through entirely too much ammo as a result.

“What happened to keepin’ quiet?” Bucky asked, unloading the last round into one of the night guards as he spoke. The skeleton crew had been seven men in all, including the sniper up on top of the fence. **  
**

“Not really my style,” Wade replied.

Bucky considered what might happen if he hauled back and shot Wade in the head, too.

_He’s not travelin’ alone. Ain’t worth the mess._

Bucky whistled softly, and Tony and Peter met them just in time for Bucky to work open the lock.

“There. Through here.” Bucky and Wade pushed the giant wooden doors open, and Bucky set the lock from the inside as Wade continued on toward the second obstacle of the barricade.

“Why is it always trucks?” Tony asked.

Bucky jogged over to help Wade up over the back of the semi-truck first. Peter was next, then Tony. Bucky was just about to jump up when something made the doors creak, a bright light pointing directly at them. Bucky recognized that sound.

 _Shit._ That was a fucking tank.

“C’mon,” Bucky said, holding out his arm. “Help me up.”

Wade stared at him, then shook his head and backed away. “I’m sorry, man. We’ve gotta go.”

Fuck. Bucky should’ve known not to trust Wade in the first place. He looked around, trying to come up with an exit strategy. At least Tony was safe. Tony could stay with Wade, and Bucky could meet up with them further on.

Except Tony wasn’t safe. Tony was right next to him. Bucky did a double take. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“You’ve gotten me this far, right? So I’m with you.”

Bucky didn’t know what to think about that. Part of him was furious with Tony for not getting to safety, and another part was viciously happy that Tony had picked _him._

“Okay, then. You’d better start runnin’.”

~

They made it as far as the bridge without getting shot. They’d darted through alleys and into stores, not stopping to see if the tank had followed, knowing that it probably had. The entrance to the bridge was packed with abandoned cars, like every other road in this godforsaken city. Bucky let Tony lead the way, following quickly through the maze.

There was a reason the cars were piled up on this bridge. It had split in two.

Bucky had no idea how. Maybe they’d bombed the bridge on purpose, just like they’d bombed Boston’s city center. Whatever the reason was, a giant chasm had opened up between either side of the bridge, stopping Tony dead. Bucky turned at the sound of the tank rolling slowly up the road behind them.

_Shit._

They were trapped. There was nowhere to go but back toward the tank, and that would end with both of them blown to bits.

“I’ll distract ’em,” Bucky said, because it was the only thing he could think to do. “You go back around-”

“Or we could jump.”

More shots. The tank was making headway, pushing against the piled-up cars.

Bucky’s jaw fell open. “What?”

“It’s not too high,” Tony said. “I know it’s fucking crazy, but it’s survivable.”

“No,” Bucky growled, taking a step closer as Tony backed slowly toward the edge. “Tony, we ain’t doin’ that.”

Tony shook his head. “We don’t have time to argue.”

“Tony, _stop-_ ”

But Tony had already jumped.

~

Bucky woke to Tony’s face hovering above him.

“What happened?” Bucky groaned, blinking, then coughing up a lungful of water.

“We hit the rocks,” Tony said. “Wade pulled us out.”

Wade. Bucky growled, jumping to his feet and pulling out his pistol. Wade had left them to fucking die.

“Whoa, hey, stop!” Wade held out a hand, as if that was enough to stop a bullet if Bucky had wanted to put one in him. “I saved you!”

“After you left us.”

“Bucky.” Tony rested a hand on Bucky’s arm, and the tension drained from Bucky’s body. He looked down at Tony, and something about the look on Tony’s face made him lower the gun just a fraction. “It’s okay.”

Bucky thought long and hard before putting the pistol away. “Fine. But if you cross us again, we’re done. Understand?”

Wade nodded. “I understand.”

The river had put them out near the entrance to the sewers. Since they hadn’t been in use in years, the enormous tunnel didn’t smell nearly as bad as it could’ve, but Bucky still wasn’t convinced that they weren’t walking through shit. Wade suggested they split up, and Tony opposed him, saying that the last time someone had split off from their group, they had ended up bit. Wade shut up about it after that.

Someone had made a home in the sewers. There were couches, cribs, toys, stored supplies. It seemed like these people had been ready for the long haul. Which begged the question: where had they all gone?

“Hey, look. It’s another one of those comics.” Tony passed it over to Bucky, and Bucky zipped it into Tony’s backpack before continuing forward.

The sewer stretched for miles. It was a small mercy that there hadn’t been any spores, and all the clickers had been sleeping. They did that sometimes when there wasn’t any prey. It was some sort of hibernation. Only loud movement woke them up.

Once they reached the other side and made it out into the open air, it was clear why they hadn’t found any people in the sewers. The words, ‘INFECTED INSIDE, DO NOT ENTER,’ were written in bright red ink over the door.

They had obviously made it to the suburbs. Every house looked the same. The yards were huge. An abandoned ice cream truck sat parked in one of the driveways. The place seemed deserted, but as soon as Bucky stepped out into the open, he heard the sound of gunfire.

“Get down!”

They backtracked until they were hidden behind the first house on the corner.

“These fuckers are everywhere,” Wade said, dragging a hand over his short hair. “First they try to bulldoze us with a tank, now they’ve got a fucking sniper?”

“Is it only one? Or are there more of them?”

“If there were more, I think they’d probably be on us by now,” Wade said. “I’m guessing it’s just the one.”

“I’ll handle it,” Bucky said. Finally, something he could do on his own. “You all stay down until I give the signal. Three shots, then two shots. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tony parroted back. Bucky inclined his head, then turned to sneak around the back of the house.

Bucky hated to admit it, but that sniper was a good shot. Bucky made the mistake of standing up just once. After that, he stayed very carefully covered until he was out of range. He hid behind old trash cans and ducked around fences, staying low to the ground until he came to the back door of the last house on the block. The sniper had to be upstairs. Bucky pushed the door open carefully, creeping inside, still crouched low until he knew the room was clear.

He passed through the house’s kitchen, then through the living room, making his way slowly up the stairs. There was a hunter on the landing armed with both a pistol and a rifle.

Bucky snuck up behind the hunter and covered his mouth, then snapped his neck, easing him to the floor.

Next came the sniper. A mounted rifle wasn’t the easiest to use against a close range target. The man charged forward, and as he did, Bucky’s elbow connected with his nose, shattering bone. Bucky pulled him into a choke hold, waiting to make sure the man was dead before moving to give the all clear.

The scope on this thing was incredible. It had to be Military grade, probably stolen from soldiers who hadn’t been careful enough with their weapons transports. Bucky aimed straight down at the ground, letting off three quick shots followed by two.

That had apparently been the wrong move. The second Tony, Wade, and Peter abandoned their hiding spot, more hunters came out of the woodwork.

 _Not a problem,_ Bucky thought. _Just shoot ’em. After all, it’s what you do best._

One by one, the hunters went down. It had been too long since Bucky had used a mounted gun, but he was getting the hang of it. Five was the magic number - five hunters, and then the dust settled. Bucky waited, watching to see if more would appear from around the corner.

When he next saw movement, he lined up the shot and blanched. Those weren’t hunters, not any more. They were runners.

Bucky couldn’t shout to warn them. No point. They wouldn’t hear. He fired a few more rounds, and Tony was intelligent enough to turn back to look.

“Fuck!” Tony yelled, holding onto Peter’s arm and starting to run.

Bucky tried to keep his breathing steady. Tony was fine. Tony could handle himself. No reason for Bucky to jump down into the fray when he was more useful to them up here. He picked the runners off one by one, not stopping until he had to reload. Even then, he moved quickly, his hands steady, his heart beating out of his chest. There were too many of them. He couldn’t keep up, and suddenly there weren’t just runners, there were clickers.

Bucky went into a frenzied trance. Aim, fire, kickback. Aim, fire, kickback. He absorbed the shock with his shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on Tony. Wade and Peter were slowing Tony down. Bucky should’ve known to get rid of them before-

“Help!” A runner had grabbed Peter by the leg, and Peter had fallen to the ground, kicking and screaming. Damn it. Peter was moving too much. Bucky couldn’t shoot without hitting him.

Then Tony was behind Peter, shooting the runner point-blank in the head. It dropped, and Peter clambered up, following Tony backward. Bucky let out the breath he’d been holding, abandoning his post and sprinting down the stairs as he heard the door open and slam shut.

“You’re okay!” was the first thing Tony said, throwing his arms around Bucky before Bucky had a chance to argue.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Bucky didn’t let go right away. He couldn’t bring himself to hate that Tony had been worried about him. “What about you? You okay?”

Tony loosened his grip, and Bucky backed up, still holding onto Tony’s shoulders and looking him over.

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Bucky looked over at Wade. “I think it’s about time we get out of here. C’mon - there’s a way out through the back.”

“Right behind you,” Wade said.

~

It was dark by the time they reached the radio tower. Bucky climbed the stairs first to make sure the coast was clear, then called for the other three to join him.

The place was full of equipment that hadn’t been used in years. Tech used to record and to transmit, televisions, a boom-box. Bucky wondered if the radios still worked. He wasn’t about to test them out. Soldiers scanned the radio every so often to try and hunt down stragglers. Broadcasting their location wouldn’t have been a smart move.

Bucky built them a small fire, nothing that would burn the place down, and Wade and Peter contributed cans of beans and vegetables for their first meal in what felt like ages. Tony had found some kind of canned ravioli, and Bucky had laughed when Tony had outright refused to share.

“This is all mine,” Tony said, gripping the open can close to his chest. “You can’t have any.”

“I ain’t askin’,” Bucky replied, smiling a little before returning his attention to the can of beans in front of him.

Tony sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Tony scooted over until he was right next to Bucky, then stabbed one of the raviolis with a fork, passing it over to Bucky. “Here.”

Bucky took the fork from Tony’s hand, raising an eyebrow before taking a bite. “Hm. Tastes like kid food to me.”

“Better than refried beans,” Tony said, snatching the fork back. He didn’t resume his old seat - he stayed next to Bucky, not quite close enough, but not quite far enough, either.

“So. Wade.” Tony looked at Wade curiously. “You’re big and tough, and you swear like a sailor. What were you before the outbreak? Some kind of mercenary?”

“I dabbled in a lot of things,” Wade said vaguely. “But yes. Gun for hire was one of my official titles.”

“Were you any good?”

Wade laughed. “Was I good? Oh, baby doll, I was the best around.”

Bucky’s body tensed. _Baby doll?_ What the hell was that? Bucky knew Wade’s type; he was the kind of man who liked to push boundaries. But that was one boundary Wade should’ve known better than to cross.

“Really,” Tony deadpanned before Bucky could respond. “Did you give everybody pet names, too? Bet the ladies loved that.”

Peter, who had been silent through the whole exchange, stood up. “I’m gonna go take stock of our supplies.”

Bucky watched Peter cross toward the door, then looked down, Tony’s hand resting on his thigh to get his attention.

“I’ll go check on him,” Tony said, his thumb stroking once over the outside seam of Bucky’s jeans before he drew his hand away.

Bucky nodded dumbly, staring after Tony as he got up and followed Peter out of the room. “Okay.”

Bucky rubbed a hand over his leg, his skin still burning where Tony had touched him. _Shit._ Somewhere between Clint’s town and the Pittsburgh suburbs, Bucky and Tony had crossed a line. Bucky held his breath for a long time before letting it out.

_Breathe, Barnes. Just focus on gettin’ him to Steve’s. Then he ain’t your problem any more._

~

“Hey,” Tony said, letting the door slide closed behind him. “You okay?

“I don’t know,” Peter replied. He was sitting on one of the small metal chairs, staring out into the darkness. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

Tony crossed in front of Peter to perch on the table. “Was it something that happened today?”

“Maybe.” Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

“Hey. Looking out for each other is part of the deal.” Tony didn’t press for more conversation. If Peter was freaked out - and he had every right to be freaked out, because it had been a fucking day - he had every right to take his time talking about it.

“Doesn't any of this stuff bother you? Don't you ever - I dunno. Get scared?”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “I was pretty scared when I jumped off that bridge.”

“But you still did it.” Peter drew his knees up to his chest, staring out the window. “D’you ever wonder if the people are still in there? Inside those things?”

Tony shook his head. “They're not.”

“How do you know?”

“Science. Once a person's brain is damaged like that, they're gone.”

“That’s sad,” Peter whispered.

“It is,” Tony agreed. “It sucks. But if we’re still around, it must be for a reason, right? As long as we stick together, we’ll be fine.”

Peter rested his chin on his knees, not saying anything else.

Tony sighed. “Well. I’m gonna go. See you tomorrow morning.”

“See you,” Peter replied, not looking back as Tony left the room.

~

When Bucky woke, he was surprised to find Tony pressed up against his back. Bucky rolled over and sat up, dragging a hand through his hair, then pulling it away from his face into a bun.

“You sure you guys aren’t an item?” Wade asked, eyebrows raised suggestively. “He seems awfully fond of you.”

“We ain’t anything,” Bucky growled. “And it ain’t your business.”

Bucky helped Wade start the fire again, opening up a few more cans of food.

Tony started to stir at the smell. “Time for breakfast?” Tony asked, smiling as he stretched, then got to his feet.

“Yep!” Wade said cheerfully, making Bucky want to glower even more. “Why don’t you go and wake Pete.”

Tony nodded, his face still creased with sleep as he made his way into the other room. Not even a minute later, they heard Tony scream.

Adrenaline spiked in Bucky’s veins. Tony scrambled out of the room on his hands and knees, Peter trailing behind, trying to attack him.

“Shit, he’s turnin’!” Bucky held Peter off until Tony was clear, then pulled out his pistol.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Bucky looked up. The barrel of Wade’s gun was pointed straight at Bucky’s chest.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Wade. It ain’t him. Not any more.”

“I’m not going to let you do it. He’s my responsibility, not yours. I won’t let you kill him.” Wade’s cheeks were wet with tears, and he pointed the gun between Peter and Bucky, as if he wasn’t sure who to shoot.

“Wade. Take it easy. Just put the gun down.”

Wade was trembling, sobbing, staring at Peter with unseeing eyes. He shook his head slowly, clicking the safety off.

Damn it. Bucky had to talk him down somehow. Maybe if Bucky just kept talking- “Wade. Just stop. It'll be all right, it's-”

Wade shook his head again, then yanked the gun back.

_Crack! Crack!_

The shots were so close together, Bucky could barely tell the sounds apart. Peter went limp, a pool of blood spreading on the carpeted floor, and Bucky looked up just in time to see Wade’s body hit the ground. Fucking _hell_.

“Holy _shit_ . That - he - _oh my god_.” The color had drained from Tony's face, making him look a shade away from passing out.

“Tony. It's okay.”

Tony shook his head too quickly, his jaw hanging open. “It's not. It’s not, I - I almost did that to myself. I could have turned into - fuck. I can't breathe.”

Bucky didn’t think. He reached out and gathered Tony forcefully into his arms. Tony tried to push him away, but Bucky held fast. “Tony. Christ, don't - come here.”

It took a second for Tony to quit fighting, and then Tony was shaking, hyperventilating, sobbing wetly into Bucky’s chest. Tony’s fists curled into Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky held Tony tighter, tucking Tony’s head under his chin, pressing his nose into Tony’s hair. They stood there for what felt like hours, Tony hanging onto him until the sobs and hiccups turned into deep, shuddering breaths. Tony’s grip loosened; Bucky moved his hands to Tony’s arms, squeezing gently.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“Shut up. I freaked out.” He shook his head, then glanced over at Peter’s limp body. “I should’ve done it myself. He just - it surprised me and I got fucking _scared_.”

“It happens.”

“Yeah, but that’s how people get killed, right? They get scared and they don’t react in time.”

“Look, this - it ain’t somethin’ you can plan for. All right?” It was obvious that Tony didn’t like that answer. Christ. Bucky had never seen anyone look so raw before. “And… If it’ll make you feel better, we can practice.”

“Okay.” Tony nodded, taking in a shuddering breath, his lips still pursed like he might start crying all over again. “Yeah. Target practice. And fighting practice.”

“C’mon.” Avoiding the bodies, Bucky found his backpack and slipped it on, then picked up Tony’s and passed it over. “No reason to hang around here. We got a lot of ground to cover.”

Tony held onto the backpack with trembling hands, then pulled the straps slowly over his shoulders. “Right. Yeah.”

“Let’s go.”

When Tony didn’t move, Bucky held out his hand. He would question the wisdom of that later, he was sure, but if what Tony needed right now was an anchor, then Bucky was happy to be one, personal attachment be damned.

Tony reached out and slid his hand into Bucky’s. “Okay. Let’s go.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some sexual content later in this chapter.
> 
> Many thanks to [folklejend](https://folklejend.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!

Bucky had never seen a dam up close before.

It had been hard to conceptualize the amount of water involved. Now that it was right in front of him, Bucky thought that this really was a marvel of human invention. It really was too bad humanity had gone to shit. The world could use more things like this, things that helped the environment and generated clean energy. Not that anyone had much use for clean energy anymore.

“I didn’t think any of these were still in operation,” Tony said.

“Me either.” Bucky paused, watching the water move. “In operation? You mean-”

“There are turbines moving, yeah. I don’t know where they are, but the movement of that water isn’t doing nothing.”

Bucky wondered if anyone nearby was actually using electricity from those turbines. Would those people know where he could find Steve? They had to be getting close. Someone had to be able to point them in the right direction.

They passed by the dam, headed to what looked like an electric plant attached to it. Large gates with barbed wire on top blocked the entrance, and as Bucky stepped forward to see if the gate would give, they heard voices from up top.

“Stop right where you are.” A woman with bobbed brown hair pointed a rifle at Bucky, and Bucky held his hands up.

“We ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” he said. “We just-”

“Hang on, Peg,” came another voice. “Open the gate.”

“You know these guys?”

“Like hell I do.” The gate creaked open, and then Steve stepped out, smiling like a fool. “This is Bucky Barnes.”

They stared at each other, Bucky taking in Steve’s appearance, Steve taking in Bucky’s. Steve moved first, hugging Bucky hard enough to knock the air out of him.

“It’s good to see you, Buck.”

“You too, Stevie.” Bucky took a step back, glancing over at Tony. “This is Tony.”

“Tony. Good to meet you.” Steve held out a hand, and Tony shook it and the woman made her way down to ground level. “And this is my wife, Peggy Carter. Peg, this is Bucky and Tony.”

“A pleasure,” Peggy said, shaking their hands in turn.

“Your wife?” Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows. “You tellin’ me you got married?”

“It had to happen eventually,” Steve said with a sigh, not quite able to hide his smile.

“Steve.” Peggy put a hand on Steve’s arm. “Shouldn’t we invite them inside?”

Steve looked instantly sheepish. “Of course. I’m sorry, where are my manners? Come on inside, let us show you around.”

The hydroelectric plant was at the edge of a small community. It was a little neighborhood of houses, with about a hundred residents altogether, according to Peggy. The hydroelectric plant generated electricity for the town, so the children enjoyed things like movies and electric lights. It was impressive, Bucky thought. It was the smartest way to keep a community thriving - keep them living off of the land, but give them enough creature comforts to still feel like human beings.

After their brief tour, Peggy offered them both something to eat. Tony jumped at that, and Bucky didn’t blame him. Beans from a can weren’t really enough for anybody.

“You go on ahead,” Bucky said to Tony. “I’ve gotta talk with Steve. I’ll catch up.”

“You want to talk with me?” Steve asked, the little eavesdropper.

“Yeah. I was hopin’ to ask you somethin’. In private.”

Steve’s expression grew serious. “Sure, Buck. Let’s, uh - I’ll take you back to my office.”

Bucky followed Steve through the building, past the turbines and up the stairs to the upper level. The office wasn’t big, but it had a nice view, overlooking the water.

“Okay,” Steve said, closing the door carefully behind them and taking a seat on top of the desk. “What’s up?”

“I…” Shit. Bucky didn’t even know where to start. He paced toward the window, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “It’s about Tony.”

“What about him?”

Bucky inhaled slowly, making a face. “He’s immune.”

“What?”

“You heard me. He’s immune. I was s’posed to hand him off to HYDRA at the Capitol building, but somebody else got there first. Figured I’d bring him to you instead.”

A muscle moved in Steve’s jaw. “I haven’t been in contact with HYDRA in years.”

“Yeah, I know. But you still know where they are, right? You could take him there?”

“Maybe.” Steve crossed his arms. “So you’re not here because you want to see me. You’re here because you need me to take him off your hands.”

Steve sounded so wounded that Bucky refused to meet his eyes.

“I can’t keep cartin’ him around. I don’t know what I’m doin’, I don’t know where to take him. You know HYDRA. You know where to go. He’ll be safer with you.”

“Buck.” Steve shook his head. “I’m settled here. I have a family. A life. I can’t just pick up and leave.”

“You owe me,” Bucky said.

“I’m sorry? Last I checked, you owed me.”

“You’re the reason I’m here in the first place. Rhodes said you told him he could could on me. Sound familiar?”

They stared at each other for a tense moment, neither willing to back down.

Finally, Steve let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his beard. “I don’t know, Buck. I’ll have to talk to Peggy.”

“So talk to her. I ain’t in a hurry.”

~

“She’s not happy,” Steve said an hour later, sitting down next to Bucky on the steps. “But I’ll do it.”

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. He’d known Steve would come through. If he was honest, Bucky was more worried about how Tony would react.

“Thank you, Stevie. Really. I - you don’t know how much I appreciate this.” Bucky stood up, holding a hand out to Steve. “So. Are we tellin’ Tony together?”

“Guess we’d better,” Steve said, taking Bucky’s hand and pulling himself to his feet.

Ten minutes later, it became apparent that Tony was _gone._

Bucky tried hard not to panic. Maybe Tony was in town, watching a damn movie. Just because they couldn’t find him, didn’t mean he’d disappeared. He was probably around. Those thoughts kept Bucky sane for all of two seconds, and then he was asking everyone with a pair of ears where Tony might’ve gotten to.

“I haven’t seen him,” Peggy said. “None of us have seen him in the last half hour.”

“Stevie. Did he hear you talkin’ about him?”

Steve shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, Buck. Maybe? We weren’t exactly in private, but-”

“Damn it!” Bucky turned in a circle, fists clenched. He desperately wanted something to hit. “How the hell do I find out where he is? Don’t you all have patrols? Isn’t there someone we can ask who’ll have a real fuckin’ answer?”

“Of course we have patrols,” Steve said, leading Bucky back toward the gated entrance. “Wilson!” Steve shouted up at the gate guard. “We’re looking for Tony. Have you seen him?"

Wilson nodded. “He just left. Grabbed one of the horses and took off, headed south.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “Son of a bitch.”

“He can’t have gone far,” Steve said, already headed toward the horses. “Come on, saddle up. We’ll catch him on the trail.”

~

They found Tony’s horse tied up at the ranch house. Bucky hopped off his own horse and passed the reins over to Steve, not waiting before charging inside.

“Tony?” No answer. They moved further into the house, and Bucky tried again. “Tony?”

“I'm upstairs.”

“Go ahead,” Steve said, suddenly at Bucky’s side. “I'll keep watch down here.”

Bucky didn’t know what he was expecting. He climbed the stairs, his heart pounding, adrenaline pooling in his veins. What the hell was he going to say? Why had he even followed Tony to begin with?

He saw a door cracked open at the end of the hall. Bucky crossed toward it, then slowly stepped inside.

It had been a little girl’s room, once. The walls were pink, with strips of flowered wallpaper outlining the floor and ceiling. A short shelf to his right had children’s books at the bottom and chapter books at the top. The bed, pushed up against the wall on the far side, was comically small, covered with a pale pink comforter and a single pillow. And then there was Tony, seated at the end of the bed, engrossed in a book.

“You know how long it's been since I read anything other than those comics?” Tony smiled to himself, turning the page. “I don’t even care that this is written for a first grader. I missed this. Getting lost in a different world.”

Tony closed the book and set it aside, _finally_ looking up. “So. You here to drag me back kicking and screaming?”

The thought had crossed Bucky’s mind. Running away had been a stupid, careless thing to do, and part of Bucky wanted to haul Tony over one shoulder and march him all the way to Jackson County.

“Not gonna drag you. Just wanna take you back.”

Tony’s expression hardened. “What if I say no?”

Bucky willed himself not to respond. Tony was testing him, and Bucky wasn’t going to stoop to arguing. He needed Tony to come back, and that meant a gentler approach. “Tony. What's this about?”

“Admit that you were planning to get rid of me this whole time.”

“I wasn't-”

 _“Don't_. Lie.”

Bucky took in a deep breath and held it. _Damn,_ Tony was stubborn. “Fine. Yes. I was gonna have you go with Steve.”

He saw the tears threatening, anger and frustration and hurt blazing hot in Tony's eyes. _“Why?_ What's so wrong with me that you can't do it yourself?”

Shit. That wasn’t it at all. There was nothing wrong with Tony. It was Bucky who was emotionally stunted, Bucky who cut people off because he couldn’t bear to lose them.

“Tony. It ain’t you,” Bucky said as sincerely as he could. “It’s me. I ain’t the right person for this. Steve's better. Smarter. He'd take better care of you.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t want Steve. I want _you_.”

That was a sucker punch Bucky wasn’t expecting. He blinked, lips parted in surprise, struggling to breathe past the tightness in his throat.

And Tony _laughed_. “Oh, come on, you can’t seriously pretend that that’s news to you. I _see_ the way you look at me. You’re not as subtle as you think you are, there’s something here, whether you’ll admit it or not. This is - god damn it. This is _something_. But sure, ditch me. That makes a lot of sense.”

Bucky took a step closer. “Tony. I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“What you wanted was to make me someone else’s problem!” Tony turned to stare out the window, clenched fists resting on the sill. “Just go. Clearly I misinterpreted things, and I'm obviously a huge imposition to you, so just _go_. Steve can deal with me from now on.”

Bucky didn't understand what the hell was going on in his own head any more. Watching Tony get so upset because of something he’d done made him _ache._ He didn't want Tony thinking any of those things. Tony wasn’t an imposition. Tony wasn’t a problem. Tony was just…

He was everything. He was funny and obnoxious and smart and ridiculous and _everything_ Bucky wanted. It had been so long since Bucky had felt anything for anyone, and Bucky wasn’t equipped to handle it. Bucky would end up hurt again, and that would be too much. Tony out of Bucky’s life - that was smarter. That was safer for everyone.

But could Bucky really say he wanted to walk away?

No. He couldn't.

“I don't want that,” Bucky said softly.

Tony breathed out, glancing back over his shoulder. “No?”

“You're right. There's somethin’ here.”

Tony turned to face Bucky, tilting his chin up in defiance. “Show me.”

“What?”

“You just said there's something here. Prove it. Show me.”

“Tony. I can’t just-”

 _“I don't believe you,”_ Tony challenged, taking a step closer.

Bucky growled. They did _not_ have time for this. They weren’t protected out here. And what right did Tony have, asking for _proof?_ Bucky wanted to refuse just to teach Tony a lesson, but Tony was standing so close that Bucky could’ve counted every damn eyelash one by one, and fuck all if Bucky was going to back down from a challenge like that.

“Fine. I’ll show you.”

In one quick, angry motion, Bucky cupped Tony's face in his hands, dragging Tony forward into a kiss.

_Christ._

Tony felt _so good_ . His lips were soft like velvet, his hands warm on Bucky’s waist, and Bucky crowded closer, fingertips tickling the hair at the base of Tony’s neck. Tony made a small, soft noise, and then Tony eased Bucky’s lips apart with his tongue, probing Bucky’s mouth. _Shit._ Bucky moaned and swept Tony’s mouth in turn, pressing Tony back against the wall.

It was all too much, too much sensation, too much stimulus. Bucky had stopped thinking entirely; all he could do was seek out Tony’s mouth over and over again, Tony’s arms wrapped around his neck, Tony’s hips pressed flush against his. For the first time in years, Bucky felt alive. How the hell had Tony done that?

“Wrap it up, fellas,” came a voice from the doorway.

Bucky pulled away quickly. Tony sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his mouth, fingers lingering over swollen lips.

“We’ve got company,” Steve said. “Three hostiles on the first floor. Might be more coming in.”

“Shit.” Bucky took a deep breath to steady himself. “You think we can sneak past ‘’em?”

“No. But we can knock them out long enough to get away.”

Bucky almost laughed. That was Steve, alright. Never willing to kill anyone without cause. Bucky, on the other hand, set hunters on fire with molotov cocktails. If hell existed, Bucky already knew there was a special circle reserved just for him, and at this particular moment, he didn’t care.

“You lead the way,” Bucky said to Steve. “I’ll follow and cover you. Tony, stay close, and stay hidden. Got it?”

Tony flashed a weak, breathless smile. “Got it.”

~

Bucky and Steve had been a team before. Their communication skills might’ve been a bit rusty, but they still got the job done, taking out one man at a time. Bucky wondered if he ought to go back and kill the men that Steve had just knocked out; but this was Steve’s terrain. For now, he was going to play by Steve’s rules.

Bucky knew exactly how long it took to strangle a person and make them lose consciousness. He followed Steve’s lead, creeping up on the man around the corner, double-teaming the two men downstairs near the couch. Six hunters in total were all laid out in a matter of minutes, and then Steve led them quickly out the door, untying the horses and starting back toward Jackson County.

Apart from hoofbeats on dirt, the ride was quiet. Bucky’s horse followed Steve’s without much guidance, and they trotted at an easy pace, twilight catching up with them as they went. Soon they could see the little city from the crest of the hill - the power had come on, and it was the first time Bucky had seen streetlights lit up in years.

“That’s beautiful, Stevie,” Bucky said.

“Thanks.”

They stood, staring, then Bucky let out a sigh. “So. Colorado, huh?”

“Yeah. Eastern Colorado University. HYDRA’s set up in the science building there.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Bucky looked over at Tony. “Well. If we’re goin’ to Colorado, you oughta give that horse back.”

Tony blinked. “Huh?”

“You heard me. Only need one horse between the two of us.”

“Okay,” Tony said, hopping down off of the horse and passing the reins over to Steve.

“You sure, Bucky? I said I’d go.”

“You got work to do here,” Bucky said, settling his weight and giving Tony a hand up. “Plus, I think Peggy might kill me if you came along.”

Steve laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

Bucky turned back to look at Tony. “You good?” he asked.

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Alright then. It was good to see you, Steve.”

“You too.” Steve started down the path, the second horse in tow. “Good luck.”

~

The ride to the University took several days, and Bucky was thankful they hadn’t had to go on foot.

They stopped to make camp each night just after sunset. Fall was quickly turning into winter, and the temperatures after dark had started to drop below freezing. Bucky hadn’t argued when Tony had fallen asleep in his arms, Bucky’s body curled around Tony’s, heat radiating between them. They both needed the warmth, but Bucky was sure Tony had other reasons for wanting to be close. Bucky certainly did. He couldn’t deny them anymore, not when it felt so good to be wrapped around Tony, to have Tony’s body pressed against him.

It had been four days since they’d left Steve’s dam. Bucky woke first, blinking away sleep, his breath coming out in a puff of mist. He nuzzled against the back of Tony’s neck, burying his nose in Tony’s hair and breathing deeply. Christ, Bucky was in deep.

_Get yourself together, Barnes._

Bucky disentangled himself and crawled out of the sleeping bag, letting the brisk air cool his flushed cheeks. It took several minutes of walking before his arousal dwindled, and even then he was half-hard again when he caught sight of Tony sitting up in the sleeping bag, hair askew, expression still soft with sleep.

They didn’t say anything as they packed up and moved out. Bucky hauled himself up onto the horse, then held out a hand to Tony, swallowing as Tony climbed up, arms circling Bucky’s waist. This part was unavoidable. Tony had to hold onto something. For some reason, it still made Bucky cringe. He was indulging where he shouldn’t. He should have forced them to sleep separately, unbearable cold be damned.

They reached the university at midday. The place was huge, too big to cover on foot, and Bucky was once again thankful for the horse. They made it past the cafeteria and a few of the outer buildings; when the science building still wasn’t visible, Tony suggested they find a rooftop to get a better view.

The building Tony chose had been a dormitory. Numbered doors lined the hall, some open, some closed. Tony ducked into one of the rooms, and Bucky followed, watching as he searched through drawers and under pillows.

“You’re gettin’ better at that.”

“Learned from the master,” Tony said, pulling a bottle of pills out of a dresser drawer. “There you go.”

Bucky tucked them away in his backpack, then trailed Tony out into the hall and into the rooms on the opposite side.

The next room they checked was perfectly preserved. It was like nothing had happened - like everyone had just packed up and left in a hurry. Like no one had bothered to move anything since the start of the outbreak. There was an open notebook on the desk, and an anatomy text full of post-it notes. String lights, leftover from Christmas, hung down from the side of the top bunk, and Tony was somehow entranced by them even though they weren’t lit up.

“Guess all college dorm rooms look pretty much the same,” Tony said.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Did you have lights on your bunk?”

“For a while. Until Rhodey made us take them down.”

“Sounds like a fun guy,” Bucky said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

“He’s not actually that much of a buzzkill. And he’s good to have around when things get ugly.” Tony crossed toward the window and looked outside, one hand above his eyes to block the glare. “Hey. I think I see the science building.”

“Yeah?” Bucky stepped up close behind him and followed Tony’s gaze. There it was. It really did look like a giant mirror, the windows reflecting the sun back toward them. They were on the right track, at least.

“Good eye,” Bucky said.

Tony turned around to face him, eyes bright with amusement. “Yes, I’m very observant, thank you for noticing.”

Tony smiled, looking so _soft_ , and without even meaning to, Bucky leaned down and kissed him. Tony hummed, and then he was kissing back, feeling as soft as he looked, warm and pliant, hands resting on Bucky’s shoulders.

“What was that for?” Tony asked when Bucky pulled away.

“I don’t know.”

Tony searched Bucky’s face, hands sliding from Bucky’s shoulders to his chest. Brown eyes flicked down to study the buttons on Bucky’s shirt, and then Tony’s fingers were slipping underneath the straps of Bucky’s backpack, trying to slide it off one shoulder.

Bucky let out a breath. “What’re you doin’?”

Tony didn’t answer. He pulled on the strap again, gently enough that it was still a request. Bucky lowered his left shoulder just enough to slide the strap down and off his arm. Tony looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and Bucky slipped backpack all the way off, setting it down on the floor.

Still not saying anything, Tony moved one hand to trace down the front of Bucky’s shirt, fingers trailing over the buttons, traveling all the way to Bucky’s navel. Bucky swallowed. “Tony. What’re you doin’?”

Tony considered Bucky for a long time. “Being selfish,” he said finally. “Isn’t that what you told me to be?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Okay then.” Tony slid his own backpack off and dropped it to the floor. “What about you? Aren’t you supposed to be selfish, too?”

“I guess I am.”

Tony reached up, tucking a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “Then be selfish with _me.”_

~

Bucky wished he could be selfish with Tony forever. Tony was like water, fluid, movable, always changing and never completely still. Bucky’s hands brushed over Tony’s skin in soft strokes, and Tony leaned into every touch, barely making a sound.

They started out on the desk, the anatomy text forgotten on the floor, Bucky’s body bent over Tony’s while Tony’s hands tangled in his hair. Tony’s legs circled Bucky’s hips, and Bucky moved them slowly back until they fell together onto the bed, Tony opening beautifully above him. Skin moved against skin; lips sought out lips, tongues meeting in between.

Tony whimpered and arched, lost to the moment and somehow still intense and focused. Bucky didn’t last. He came with Tony’s name on his lips, the breath punched out of him, and Tony followed him over the edge.

“Shit,” Tony said. It came out a nearly soundless exhale, and Tony buried his face in Bucky’s neck, hair brushing against Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

Tony nodded. Gently, Tony kissed Bucky’s pulse point, and Bucky closed his eyes, feeling Tony’s heartbeat against his chest.

_So much for not getting attached._

~

Bucky didn’t know how long they waited before they started moving. Tony looked stiff - they’d had to make do with vaseline, and Bucky could guarantee that Tony would be sore - and Tony put his clothes on slowly, every movement deliberate and measured.

Bucky allowed himself some extra time with the buttons of his shirt, not wanting to pressure Tony to move too fast. As soon as Tony’s hoodie was zipped, Bucky handed over Tony’s backpack, and Tony smiled gratefully.

“Ready?” Bucky asked.

Tony adjusted the backpack on his shoulders, then nodded. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

~

The science building was deserted.

Bucky had expected HYDRA to greet them at the door. He’d expected better security, if this really was a functioning facility. No one had stopped them from going inside. No one had stopped them from heading upstairs into the research labs. If HYDRA had been here, they would’ve known it from the start.

_Damn it. Another dead end._

“No HYDRA here,” Bucky murmured. “Looks like there ain’t anyone here at all.”

“Where would they have gone?”

Bucky frowned. “Dunno. They might’ve kept a record-”

“Hang on. They were scientists, right? Scientists keep logs. We can sweep through their logs to see what happened to them.”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re a genius, and then you say somethin’ like that.”

“Knowing scientists keep logs doesn’t make me a genius.”

Briefly, Bucky laced his fingers with Tony’s. “Learn to take a damn compliment.”

Tony almost smiled, letting Bucky lead him up the stairs to the third floor. A few of these looked like classrooms, with multiple lab-stations laid out facing a whiteboard and a projector screen. One classroom led to a storage closet, one to a room full of empty cages, and the last, finally to an office. The door was locked, and Bucky used a shiv to pry it open.

“Well. Guess we know one of ’em’s dead.”

There was a dead man sitting in the swivel chair, still dressed in his labcoat. It was a little frightening, seeing something so close to a real skeleton in a science building, where skeletons were so often used for classroom demonstrations.

“There’s a recorder on the desk,” Tony said, examining the man’s labcoat. “Pym. Huh. I wonder what Doctor Pym has to tell us.”

“Let’s find out.” Bucky picked up the little blue recorder and pressed play.

_“If you’re looking for HYDRA, they’ve all left. I’m dead. Or I will be, soon, so. Thought I’d have a little chat. With myself. Hell.”_

Bucky pressed the fast-forward button, skimming through to see if there was anything of interest on this damn recording.

_“If you want to find the others, they’ve all gone back to Saint Mary’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. You’ll find them there, still trying to save the world. Good luck with that.”_

Bucky stopped the recording. “Shit.”

“Salt Lake City,” Tony said. “That’s a whole state away. Fuck.”

Bucky wanted to abandon the whole thing right there. If they kept chasing HYDRA, they might be doing it for the rest of their lives. They’d already risked death so many times, and for what? Dead end after dead end.

“Oh shit. Do you see that?”

Bucky looked up. Flashlights on the floor below.

“Get down,” Bucky said.

“But-”

“They ain’t HYDRA.” Bucky started moving toward the door. “And I’m guessin’ they ain’t friendly.”

From their vantage point, Bucky counted four men coming up the stairs. There were probably more already in the building that Bucky hadn’t seen. They weren’t soldiers - they didn’t have combat armor - but Bucky spotted rifles and shotguns, and those he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

“C’mon. Back the way we came. And don’t go chargin’ around any corners.”

Whoever these assholes were, they weren’t here to negotiate. The first man came barrelling at Bucky full speed. Bucky was ready with the baseball bat, slamming it into the man’s head. He went down hard, and so did the second man, the bat breaking in Bucky’s hand from the impact. Bucky dropped the broken wood to the floor, pulling out his pistol.

“Where did these assholes come from?” Tony asked, following Bucky quickly down the first flight of stairs.

“Don’t know. They must have a camp nearby. Group that big can’t travel too far.”

“What the hell do they want with us? We didn’t even do anything.”

“We got in their way. That’s plenty.” Bucky put a hand on Tony’s chest to stop him from moving forward. Two more men came charging through the doorway; Bucky took out the first, and Tony took out the second.

“Nice shot,” Bucky said.

“Thanks.”

They ran into another three soldiers before they finally reached the second floor. Now all they had to do was get down one more flight of stairs, and they’d be in the clear. Bucky walked slowly out onto the balcony, looking down into the atrium. No one down there. No need to check-

“Gotcha, asshole!” One of the men appeared out of nowhere and rammed into Bucky, knocking him off balance and shoving him toward the edge of the railing. It wasn’t more than a ten foot drop, but if Bucky fell, he’d go straight back. He might break his back or his neck, he might hit his head - he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Get off,” Bucky growled, twisting the man’s arm until he was facing the ground.

They struggled for a few more seconds, and then the railing cracked. They both went straight down. The man cracked his head open on the concrete. Bucky landed flat on his back, impaling himself on an enormous screw sticking up from the ground.

_Shit._

All of Bucky’s awareness narrowed to that one spot in his torso. He reached out with one hand and felt the screw. It wasn’t thick, or at least, it wasn’t as thick as it could’ve been. Probably just blunt enough to push his vital organs out of the way, if he was lucky. And _hell,_ it hurt. It hurt like someone had just dropped a cinder block on top of him.

“Bucky. Bucky!” Bucky didn’t know how, but Tony was in front of him, trying to get him to move. “I can’t - tell me what to do.”

“Get me up,” Bucky said, and _oh fuck._ What had started as a dull throb of pain suddenly turned sharp, and Bucky groaned, his jaw tightening, his hands clenching into fists.

“Give me your arms.” Bucky did as he was told, grimacing when Tony took hold of his wrists. “Okay. I’m gonna pull you up. One. Two. Three.”

Bucky heard the scream long before he realized it was his own. Without the screw still protruding from his body, the pain was worse, and there was blood, so much blood. It dripped down onto the floor in front of him, and he was sure it was leaving a trail behind. Every sharp edge blurred, and Bucky stumbled, steadying only when Tony took his hand.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

They made it to the next room, where another man was waiting for them. Bucky somehow managed to make the shot, but after that, he couldn’t stay upright. He fell against one of the lab tables, leaving the cabinets smeared with blood. So much blood. So dark.

Tony slipped an arm under Bucky’s shoulder to keep him steady. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

Another man, this one off to the right. Bucky was slow on the draw, but Tony was faster. Bucky staggered, then dropped to his knees. Everything was too heavy and too light; he felt like he was drowning and floating away at the same time.

“Bucky. Come on. Do you want to get out of here?” Somehow, Bucky knew the answer to that question was yes. He nodded, and Tony tugged on his arm. “Okay. Well if you want to get out of here, you have to _move._ Come on.”

Bucky didn’t know how he made it out of the building, or how he made it up onto the horse. A hundred yards later, when they were finally clear, Bucky felt himself slipping. Gravity had become too much, and he fell toward the ground, barely catching himself as he hit the pavement.

“Bucky.” Tony’s face was creased with worry, his eyes bright and panicked. “Bucky. Come on, stay awake. Stay with me. Come on, you have to tell me what to do!”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He couldn’t talk; he couldn’t make a single noise. Was he still breathing? He wasn’t sure. He could see stars in his vision, stars that turned black and swallowed the light as Tony’s face swam in and out of focus.

He’d been good at this once, staying awake even when his body was telling him to sleep. He’d been trained to fight pain. Weakly, he lifted one of his hands. Blood. So much blood. It reminded him of the night of the outbreak. The blood smelled of metal, and he felt it dripping from his fingers onto the pavement.

“Bucky. Bucky, stay with me, come on.”

Tony’s voice grew distant, his face flickering out of view, and Bucky finally let go, surrendering to the darkness.

****

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning for major character death/accidental character death. Also mentioned/implied cannibalism. Some sexual content.

Tony was fucking freezing.

He should've been used to it. They’d seen winter coming a mile away, and the days hadn’t gotten cold all at once - it had been a slow, steady progression down to sub-zero. That didn’t change the fact that all Tony had was his hoodie. And more snow had fallen the night before, which meant his shoes were getting soaked. He probably couldn’t afford to be out here more than an hour.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding. He didn’t know anything about cold or survival or any of that crap. He could calculate how long it would take a person to fall from any given height in his head, but when it came to survival skills, well - survival hadn’t been part of the general education curriculum at MIT. Tony was sure that if he stayed out here too long, his toes would start to freeze, and eventually they might fall off. He just had no idea what ‘too long’ really was.

At least he’d learned how to shoot a stupid arrow. It had taken some practice, back at the house where he and Bucky were hiding, but he’d figured it out after seventeen failed attempts. There was a science to it. Really, it was just physics, and at least that part made enough sense to him.

All he’d caught so far was a rabbit. Which was why he was still traipsing around in the snow. One rabbit didn’t last very long. Small animals were even smaller than they looked without all the skin and fat on them. Tony had never thought about that before.

There were a lot of things Tony had never thought about before. A lot of things he’d never done alone. They were things Bucky would’ve helped with… except that Bucky couldn’t.

Bucky was still alive, thank god. He was hurt, but he was still fucking alive. Most days, he was barely conscious. That injury had done a number on him. The world’s biggest tetanus shot couldn’t have protected a person against the enormous piece of metal that had gone clean through Bucky’s body. Tony had managed to sew him up, but without medicine, there was a very real possibility that the wound would get infected. And Tony hadn’t found any antibiotics anywhere.

The best Tony could do was keep looking. Keep hunting. Keep them both alive for as long as he could. Endure and Survive, right?

_Stupid fucking comic books._

Being a quiet hunter was harder than it looked. There were so many fallen branches everywhere, and some of the twigs had started to freeze, making them that much louder when Tony stepped on them accidentally. Tony had to tread carefully, and he had to be patient. He had never been particularly good at either of those things.

He hadn’t quite lost feeling in his toes, but there was more than a little chill seeping in, and Tony was about ready to call it quits - a rabbit wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing - when he spotted a deer in the clearing.

_There we go._

A deer was going to be harder to kill than a rabbit. Sure, there was plenty of surface area, but he needed to hit something important. Arteries. Internal organs. Shooting it in the haunch wasn’t going to cut it. Tony pulled the bow back, aimed, and loosed the arrow.

 _Shit._ Not good enough. The arrow lodged itself into the deer’s ribs, and then the deer took off at a run. Tony followed it as fast as he could, trying his damnedest to be quiet. How did a person run quietly through the frozen forest? Tony had no idea.

In the end, Tony wasted two more arrows before the deer finally went down.

_This is why hunters use rifles. More effective, easier to aim._

The deer didn’t die right away, either. It stumbled its way through the trees, leaving a trail of blood in the snow. Tony followed the trail until he came to a clearing near an abandoned log cabin. There was his prize. A big dead deer. Tony stared down at it and crossed his arms.

_Now. How the hell am I going to move you?_

Maybe if Tony tied the deer up to the horse, he could drag it to the house? Or he could skin it here and bring it back in pieces, that was probably the best plan-

A noise behind him made Tony turn, bow raised in defense.

“Whoa, easy. We don’t want any trouble.”

After everything he’d been through, Tony’s first instinct was just to loose the damn thing. He kept the bowstring taut, the back of the arrow level with his lips as he looked at the two men in front of him. One tall with a square jaw and blonde hair, the other shorter and wearing a wool hat. It was pretty clear to Tony which one of them was in charge. Tony sized up the taller man, eyes narrowed.

“I’m basically synonymous with trouble, so you should probably steer clear.”

The man didn’t move.

Tony refused to back down. “What do you want?”

“I’m Alexander Pierce. This is my assistant, James.”

Pierce’s voice was calm and pleasant. Too bad it sounded manufactured.

“What’s your name?” Pierce asked.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Alright.” Pierce smiled. “We were hoping to barter for some of your meat there.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Barter with what?”

“We have a village nearby - we could give you anything you need. Clothes, ammo, weapons-”

“Antibiotics.” Tony kept his voice hard and level, even though part of him wanted to fall to his knees in relief. “I need antibiotics.”

“We have those. What will you give us in exchange?”

“I’ll give you the whole damn deer,” Tony replied.

Pierce nodded to James. “Go get the medicine. Two bottles and a syringe. We’ll wait here.”

James started off, and Tony tightened his grip on the bow, noticing the rifle hanging off of Pierce’s shoulder.

“Pass me your rifle,” Tony said.

Pierce raised his eyebrows, then dropped the rifle onto the ground, kicking it toward Tony. Tony dropped the bow and picked up the rifle in the same motion.

“Is there a reason you don’t trust me?” Pierce asked.

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t trust most people.”

“I don’t trust people either.” Pierce shivered a little, rubbing at his arms. “Do you mind if we go inside? It’s a little cold out here.”

Tony pursed his lips. “Sure. Fine. But bring him with us.”

Tony gestured at the deer with a jerk of his chin. Pierce nodded, taking hold of the deer’s antlers and dragging it into the cabin.

~

They stood in silence until James came back. Tony wasn’t willing to make small talk with someone like Pierce, and anyway, Tony didn’t want to give away any important details. He didn’t trust Pierce. He didn’t trust anyone, but he didn’t trust Pierce especially.

Tony’s arm was getting tired, but he didn’t lower the rifle until James opened the door and set the bag of medicine down in front of him. Tony opened it up to make sure it had what he needed.

_Two bottles and a syringe. Good enough for me._

“Okay,” Tony said, finally allowing himself to relax a little. “The big guy’s all yours.”

“Thank you,” Pierce said, smiling again.

Honestly, that smile made Tony sick.

“It’s interesting that we’ve found you so close to the university,” Pierce said.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. We lost some of our best people there a few weeks ago. The ones who came back said two men took out the entire party.”

Tony’s heart fluttered nervously. “And why does that matter to me?”

Pierce tilted his chin down, making his face look more angular and menacing. “If the person you’re protecting killed our friends, it should matter a great deal.”

There was a threat in there somewhere, but Tony didn’t know if it was for Bucky or for him.

_This guy is bad news. Time to get the fuck out of here._

“You won’t survive long out there on your own,” Pierce continued. “I can protect you.”

Tony grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder, rifle still aimed straight at Pierce as he backed slowly out the door. “No thanks.”

Tony rode hard back to the house. He felt stupid and paranoid for worrying, but Pierce had him spooked, and he wasn’t about to risk Bucky if he could help it.

Tony led the horse into the garage and tied him up, then tiptoed slowly over to where Bucky was sleeping. He opened the bag and pulled out the medicine, wishing he had a doctor or a nurse or someone to do this for him. He’d already had to sew the damn hole shut. He’d felt Bucky’s flesh between his fingers and prayed that his own hands were clean enough. Wasn’t there someone else who could do this?

Tony filled the syringe, then unbuttoned the bottom of Bucky’s shirt. The wound wasn’t pretty, but it didn’t look infected yet. Still, who knew what was happening on the inside. Slowly, carefully, Bucky pressed the needle into Bucky’s abdomen, then pushed down the plunger to deliver the medicine.

“There. All done.” Tony wasn’t sure whether he was saying it for Bucky or for himself. He buttoned Bucky’s shirt with trembling fingers, then curled up close, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

If nothing else, at least he could help keep Bucky warm.

~

“Well where the fuck is he?”

“I don’t know. Check over there!”

Tony blinked awake, trying to make sense of the sounds coming from outside. Voices. People. Why would there be people-

_Oh fuck._

“They fucking tracked me here,” Tony whispered, his breath still misting white. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

Tony closed his eyes, trying to think quickly. He needed to draw them away. If they found Bucky…

_Don’t think about that right now. Just get them out of here. Live bait. Should be fun, right?_

Tony untied the horse, opening and closing the garage door as quietly as he could. In one practiced motion, he swung himself up into the saddle.

“Hey assholes! Over here!”

Tony saw a few heads turn, and then he took off at a gallop.

~

“Ow.”

Tony said it before he’d even opened his eyes. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His legs burned, and his fingers felt like they were hot and cold at the same time. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes. Shit. They’d captured him. Pierce had fucking choked him until he’d passed out. He’d almost gotten away, too, almost snuck past all of them, and then Pierce had been there at the edge of the woods waiting for him.

Tony groaned and looked around. Where the hell was he?

A prison. Not a real prison - a makeshift one. A cell inside a meat locker. Except those weren’t animal carcasses.

_Fuck._

These guys were the fucking Donner party. Instead of moving to where the prey was, they’d stayed put and started preying on each other. That was more than Tony’s stomach had been prepared to handle. He looked away and sat up, waiting for his vision to stop spinning, waiting for that sick feeling to subside. When he glanced back at the bars, Pierce was standing in front of him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” Tony bit out. “Just _great._ Especially now that I’m being held captive by cannibals. I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.” Tony laid on the sarcasm thick, resisting the urge to spit at Pierce’s feet. “So what now? You gonna chop me up too?”

“I would rather not.” Pierce crouched down to Tony’s eye level. “Please tell me your name.”

“Why the hell would I give you more power than you already have?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll never convince the others.”

Tony scowled. “Convince them of what?”

“That you’re worth keeping around. That you’re special.”

That sick feeling came back with a vengeance. It was all too clear what _special_ meant to Pierce. Tony was about as interested in being a sex object as he was in being cut up and served for dinner.

“You think I’m special?” Tony asked, resting one hand on the bars to give Pierce an opening. Pierce took the bait, hand closing over Tony’s.

“I do.”

Tony waited one beat, then two, letting the moment drag on just long enough - and then he grabbed Pierce’s finger and twisted until he heard it crack.

“Fuck!” Pierce pulled his hand back, and Tony tried to take advantage, reaching for the cell keys. Pierce grabbed Tony’s arm, yanking Tony forward head-first into the bars.

“Shit,” Tony groaned, the impact making him dizzy.

“You really are stupid. How am I supposed to keep you safe now? What will I tell the others?”

“Tony,” Tony spat.

“What?”

“My name. Tell them it was Tony who broke your fucking finger.”

Pierce smiled then, a real, bone-chilling smile.

“What were you saying? Something about being chopped up? Quite a shame. You won’t be as pretty in pieces.” Pierce held Tony’s gaze until he was nearly to the door.

“Have a good night, _Tony._ ”

Pierce killed the lights, and then Tony was alone.

~

Pierce was some kind of idiot for not checking Tony’s pockets before putting him in a cell.

Picking the lock took time. Time, thankfully, Tony had in abundance. No one checked on him during the night, probably because Tony didn’t look dangerous or threatening. That was to Tony’s advantage this time. The lock finally clicked, and if it broke the bobby-pins, Tony didn’t give a damn. At least he was getting the fuck out of here.

The cell door creaked as it opened, and Tony hesitated before standing up. Clear so far. Tony followed the path that Pierce had taken when he’d left, hoping it would lead outside.

He passed through a storage room, and was that what Tony thought it was? Yes. The idiots had left a revolver sitting around on a shelf where anyone could take it. Honestly, what were they thinking? Did they-

Tony’s heart plunged into his stomach as he heard Pierce’s voice from the other room. Shit. Where to hide? The only place where he wasn’t immediately visible was behind the damn door. It was like some twisted adult game of hide and seek. Except if Tony lost, he would be chopped up into pieces and fed to other human beings.

He stood quietly behind the door, waiting as Pierce and James walked through the storage room and into the meat locker. Tony kept himself entirely still until they’d cleared his line of sight, then bolted quietly through the door, sneaking outside just as he heard Pierce shout something from the meat locker.

“Shit,” Tony said, the word carried away on the wind. He couldn’t see anything. It was all a haze of snow.

“Great. We’re in a fucking blizzard. I’m being hunted by a bunch of maniacs, and I’m trying to find my way out of their crazy town in the middle of a blizzard. Perfect.”

Tony wished Bucky were there. Bucky knew how to avoid getting caught. Bucky could kill people without them ever realizing they’d been had. But Tony didn’t have Bucky. Tony was alone.

“You can do this, Stark,” he whispered to himself. “Just walk as far as you can in one direction, and eventually you’ll make it out of the camp.”

As Tony started moving forward, the bell began to toll. Tony cringed at the sound. Shit. That meant everyone in this place would know he had escaped. He made a point of moving more quickly, heading in what he hoped was the right direction.

~

An hour in the snow, and Tony hadn’t made it very far. It seemed like he was in the center of town, which was the exact opposite of what he’d wanted. He wasn’t starting to panic, he promised himself he wasn’t. But he was starting to freeze. He couldn’t feel his toes, and his fingers weren’t faring much better, not even tucked under his armpits to preserve their warmth. As much as Tony hated the idea, he needed to get out of this cold. He opened the dearest door, slipping inside and pulling it shut behind him.

It was a restaurant. It had a lower and an upper level, and both were lined with cushioned booths. Broken plates littered the floor, and the kitchen, visible from across the room, looked like it hadn’t been used in some time. Tony blew hot air on his hands to heat them up, then felt his eyes widen as the door opened again.

 _Shit._ Tony crept behind one of the aisles and stayed crouched there, not moving, not breathing.

“I saw you come in here, Tony.”

That was Pierce’s voice. He’d let the sick fuck corner him. Damn it! Tony swallowed, waiting for Pierce to move before choosing which direction to go.

“You think you can hide from me? I’ll find you eventually. You should know I’ve never come back from a hunt empty-handed.” Pierce started in toward the kitchen, and Tony countered, rotating around the aisle so that Pierce still couldn’t see him.

They did this dance three times, Pierce walking across the floor with his casual, menacing stride, and Tony moving out of his line of vision. The fourth time, Tony stepped on one of the cracked plates. And then Pierce had him.

“There you are.”

Tony jumped up and ran. He raced into the kitchen, and Pierce followed him. Tony kept the middle island between them, waiting for Pierce to make a move. Pierce waited, too, and finally Tony lost his patience, making a run for the opening on the left. Pierce grabbed the back of Tony’s shirt, and Tony spun, knocking a lantern off of a table and landing on his hands and knees.

“Running won’t do you any good,” Pierce said, twirling an enormous kitchen knife in his hand.

_When the hell did he grab that? Oh shit oh shit oh shit._

Running might not do Tony any good, but he was going to try it anyway. He jumped and slid past Pierce onto the lower level, running to the other side of the restaurant and ducking down behind a booth. From this vantage point, Tony could see the lantern he’d just knocked over catching one of the tables on fire.

Oh _hell._ If Pierce didn’t kill him, he might just die of smoke inhalation, instead.

Then, Tony remembered the revolver. He could see Pierce crossing toward him, glancing over each booth; as soon as Pierce got close enough, Tony leaned around the corner and fired. The bullet hit Pierce squarely in the kneecap - not what Tony had been going for, but still a damn good shot.

Pierce howled, but the wound didn’t deter him. In an instant he had dropped the knife and crawled on top of Tony, his hands latching tightly around Tony’s neck.

“You thought you could get away from me? You thought you could make me look like a fool in front of my people?”

Tony gasped and whimpered, struggling to breathe. Pierce didn’t let up. If only Tony could get to that knife. He reached once, and Pierce kept talking, a string of words that no longer made sense in Tony’s mind as his grip on reality slipped. Tony's vision started to blur, and he reached again, stretching further-

_Yes!_

Hand trembling, he grabbed the handle and swung hard, catching Pierce with the blade right along his eye. Pierce scrambled back, and Tony didn't think. He just kept swinging and swinging and swinging, watching as Pierce’s blood pooled on the floor.

Tony’s body was a record on repeat. He knew Pierce was dead, and still he couldn’t stop. His arms kept moving, the blade kept sailing through the air-

“Tony!”

Tony jumped and turned around, still clinging to the knife until Bucky tugged it from his hand. It took him too long to even _recognize_ Bucky, and then he was shaking, trembling and sobbing as Bucky drew him forward.

“Tony, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s me. You're okay.”

“He wanted - he tried to-” Tony couldn’t find the words, couldn’t see through the tears stinging his eyes. His knees went soft underneath him, and somehow Bucky controlled their fall, easing them down to the ground. Bucky was all around him, shielding him from the debris, from the growing fire, from Pierce’s bloody corpse. All Tony could do was bury his face in Bucky's chest, letting strong arms encircle him as he hung on for dear life.

~

“Hey.” Bucky put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You okay?”

They were passing through the bus depot that would let them out close to the hospital. For now they were in the open air, but soon they’d have to go down to the lower level, and Bucky had a feeling they’d run into more than a few clickers. Tony needed to be paying more attention.

“Huh?” Tony asked. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just a little preoccupied is all.”

Bucky sighed, trying not to seem worried. “You got too much goin’ on in your head.”

“It’s not my fault. I’m a genius, remember?”

“Tony.” Bucky stopped them at the entrance to the building, giving Tony a serious look. “What’s wrong?”

Tony bit his lip. “It’s just… I had to go through so much shit by myself. I couldn’t - you weren’t there.”

Bucky reached up to trace Tony’s cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

“No, stop, it’s not your fault-”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said again, more firmly this time. “But I’m here now. So talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

Tony swallowed, searching Bucky’s face. “You.”

“I’m right here.”

“Not like that,” Tony said impatiently. “Like _this.”_

Tony reached out and pulled Bucky forward, kissing him hard.

“Like… Like that.” Bucky pressed Tony up against the wall, his body already onboard. “You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Tony kissed him again, softer this time, more sensual, and Bucky melted into it, his tongue exploring Tony’s mouth, his hands slipping under Tony’s shirt to get at skin.

“Okay. Yeah, okay.”

It was too fast and too urgent, and it couldn’t have been more than three minutes before Bucky was tumbling over the edge.

Tony took longer, and Bucky coaxed him to his orgasm with a soft touch, whispering gentle words in his ear. Tony came hard, whimpering as he painted Bucky’s hand with stripes of white.

“Shit,” Tony breathed, tipping his head back against the wall.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, and for the first time in days, Tony smiled.

“Here.” Tony pulled a packet of tissues out of his pocket. “I found these yesterday. I figure this is as good a use as any.”

Bucky helped Tony clean up first, tossing the used tissues on the ground before tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping his jeans. He kissed Tony again for good measure, long and sweet. Tony clung to him, not letting go of Bucky’s shoulders even when he pulled away.

“Straight shot to the hospital now. You ready?”

Tony took in a breath and held it, letting it out on a sigh. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

~

Once they reached the depot's lower level, the clickers weren’t Bucky’s primary concern. Bucky was more worried about the water. The second half of this level was almost entirely submerged. In order to get out, they’d have to swim across. 

“You a good swimmer?” Bucky asked.

“Not particularly.”

 _Great,_ Bucky thought. It didn’t matter. This was their way through. Tony only had to be good enough to get to the other side.

Two thirds of the way through, the current got stronger.

“Hang onto somethin’,” Bucky called over the rushing sound of the water. “Otherwise the current will drag you down.”

“What if there’s nothing to hold onto?”

Bucky took in a breath to answer, then lost his grip.

_Hell._

The water carried Bucky too fast down the narrowing tunnel, and he hit his head once on the ceiling before he was entirely underwater. He struggled to hold his breath. His lungs burned. He gave up fighting, swimming with the current toward the light a hundred yards off.

Bucky broke the surface and gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, wiping hair out of his eyes. He waited, his jaw tense, his heart pounding. When Tony still hadn’t come up for air after thirty seconds, Bucky dove back down.

Bucky dragged Tony’s body to the surface, pulling him up onto solid ground and rolling him onto his back. He wasn’t breathing. Shit. He wasn’t breathing. Bucky started CPR, not noticing the HYDRA soldiers until they were right on top of him.

“Hands in the air,” one of the soldiers said.

“He ain’t breathin’,” Bucky tried to explain. He couldn’t stop, not while Tony’s chest wasn’t moving, not while Tony’s heart had stopped beating. Bucky couldn’t lose Tony. He couldn’t.

“Hands in the air.”

Bucky didn’t listen. He kept pounding on Tony’s chest, counting the beats, then blowing air into Tony’s lungs-

The soldier brought the butt of his rifle down on Bucky’s jaw, and everything went black.

~

Tony woke up in a hospital bed, blinking the blinding light out of his eyes.

“Ow.”

He squinted, sitting up and struggling to focus. Where the hell was he? All he remembered was water, so much water, and then… nothing.

“You’re awake.”

Tony turned his head too fast, his neck spasming painfully. “Rhodey.”

“Hey, Tones.”

“I guess that means this is the HYDRA hospital?”

Rhodey nodded. “I’ve got to hand it to Barnes. I never thought he’d get you all the way here.”

Right. Bucky. Tony cursed his own mind for moving so slowly. “Where is he? Is he okay? I don’t remember-”

“He’s fine, Tony. We got him. He’s okay.”

“But he’s not here. Why isn’t he here?”

“I didn’t think that would be a good idea.”

Something about the way Rhodey said that made Tony nervous. “Why not?”

When Rhodey didn’t answer right away, Tony cast a quick glance at the door. Not locked, but not accessible without getting past Rhodey. Clearly, Tony wasn’t supposed to be able to leave. He scanned the rest of the room, noticing his backpack on top of the counter.

“Rhodey,” Tony said, sharper this time. “Answer my question.”

It took Rhodey a long time to meet Tony’s eyes, and when he did, Tony felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

“The cordyceps are wrapped around your brain.”

Tony shook his head. “My mental faculties are a little impaired right now, so could you maybe explain exactly what that means?”

“It means…” Rhodey shook his head. “It means we need your brain to engineer a cure.”

“You need my brain.”

“Yes.”

“Meaning you have to take it out of my head.”

“Yes, Tony. Yes.” Rhodey sounded frustrated. Tony didn’t like that.

“So you’re telling me that to find a cure, you’ll have to kill me.”

“You’ll be under anesthesia. You won’t feel anything.”

“The hell I won’t.” Tony dragged a hand through his hair, flexing his hand. That knife he’d used to kill Pierce was something like a phantom limb. Every so often he felt it, even though he didn’t have it any more.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to die for this? That maybe I don’t want my head butterflied open?”

“Tones. I know you’re upset-”

“You’re damn right I’m upset-”

“But this is about the future of the world. Imagine what we could do with a cure. We could save humanity. We could wipe out this disease for good.”

Tony felt sick to his stomach. What did Rhodey mean, it wasn’t about him? It was Tony’s life. It was Tony’s choice whether or not to sacrifice it for some greater purpose. And after all the shit Tony had been through, he didn’t care about science any more. He didn’t care about saving the human race. He cared about _Bucky._

Tony stood up, crossing his arms, trying not to pace like a caged animal. Damn it, he was so tired of being trapped.

“So that’s it? If I don’t agree to do this, you’re going to force me? Drug me? I thought you were my friend.”

“I am.”

“Friends don’t threaten to kill each other.”

Rhodey sighed. “Tony. I don’t want to fight with you.”

Tony laughed, a full-throated, bitter thing that echoed sickly off the linoleum floor.

“You told me you had a hundred researchers here. I've counted six who aren't bodyguards. That's not enough. Whatever sample you take from me will die before you've made any progress unless you have somewhere to store it, and I seriously doubt you have the resources of the CDC. And that’s just the first problem.”

Tony kept his backpack in his peripheral vision as he talked, trying not to move too far in any one direction. If he was going to get his pistol - and he fucking wanted his pistol - he’d have to catch Rhodey off guard.

“What about the risk of testing potential vaccines on infected human subjects?” Tony continued. “What if your first attempts don’t work? You’ll run out of time, you’ll run out of resources, or someone who has it out for HYDRA will bust in here and shoot you all dead before you’ve even had a chance to start. You get what I’m saying, right? You actually succeeding at making this vaccine is statistically impossible. If I agree to this, I’ll be dying for nothing.”

“It isn’t nothing.”

“I want to see Bucky,” Tony demanded.

“I can't let you do that.”

Tony was finally close enough to reach into his backpack and pull out his pistol. He thumbed off the safety, pointing it at Rhodey for a fraction of a second before pressing it underneath his own jaw.

Rhodey’s eyes went wide. “Tony.”

“Move,” Tony said. Rhodey didn’t budge. _“Move,_ or I'll do it. I swear I will.”

Rhodey stood up slowly, and Tony pressed the gun deeper into his own neck.

“Don't fucking test me, Rhodey. I pull the trigger and my brain’s no good to any of you.”

“Okay.” Rhodey put up a hand and took a few steps backward. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me where Bucky is. Then I'm going to walk out that door, and you aren't going to follow me. Or I swear to god I’ll shoot you.”

~

When the drugs HYDRA had given Bucky finally wore off, they were already thirty miles out of town.

“What happened?” Bucky asked from the passenger seat.

Tony stared out into the distance, his thumb tapping on the steering wheel. “HYDRA brought us back to the hospital.”

Bucky frowned. “Why ain’t we still there?”

“Apparently I’m not the only person who’s immune.” The lie tasted surprisingly natural in Tony’s mouth. “There are a dozen more like me, and they haven’t had any luck. They - they’ve stopped looking for a cure.”

Bucky was silent for a long time. “What about Rhodes?”

“He wasn’t there,” Tony lied.

_“Tones, please-”_

_Tony fired a warning shot straight past Rhodey’s head. Rhodey froze._

_“Don’t fucking make me do it,” Tony growled. “God, Rhodey, just - please. Just let me walk away.”_

Tony blinked the memory out of his eyes.

“So what is HYDRA doin’ now?”

“They’re working on other ways to find a cure.”

Wrong. Tony had killed them. Every last one of them.

_Tony hadn’t meant for it to happen. But the guard had heard the warning shot and raced down the hall. Tony hadn’t had time to flip the safety before the tug-of-war for the gun, and-_

_Crack!_

_Time stopped. Tony watched Rhodey sink to the floor in slow motion, a bright red mark blooming on his chest._

_“Motherfucker.” Tony grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand and unloaded three rounds into his head. He didn’t go down nearly hard enough._

_Tony was next to Rhodey in an instant, a hand against Rhodey’s chest to try to stop the bleeding._

_“Shit. Shit. What - he wasn’t supposed to - Rhodey. No.”_

Bucky leaned back in his seat. “So where are we goin’?”

“To Steve’s. Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather go?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. Steve’s is good.”

Tony nodded, not taking his tired eyes off the road.

~

“I can see the dam from here!” Tony called. “We’re almost there.”

Bucky looked up. He hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been staring at his feet, watching the moss as it moved when he stepped.

Bucky couldn’t deny it any more. He was disappointed. Disappointed that he and Tony had gone so far for nothing. Disappointed in HYDRA for not doing what they’d promised and working on a cure.

Bucky hadn’t witnessed any of it himself. All he knew was what Tony had told him. Rhodes hadn’t been there. Dozens of people were immune, and they’d stopped looking for a cure. Was any of it true? Or was Tony lying? Bucky hated that he wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” Bucky said as Tony approached him. “I need to ask you somethin’.”

“What is it?”

“I just… All that work we did, and HYDRA really wasn’t workin’ on a cure?”

Tony’s face grew serious. “Bucky. I know what you went through to get us there. I understand-”

“No, I don’t know if you do.” It wasn’t about whether or not HYDRA was looking for a cure. It was about trust. Bucky had trusted Tony with everything. If Tony was lying to him…

“I just - Christ, Tony, if you-” Bucky stopped himself, trying to find the words. “Swear to me. Swear to me that everythin’ you told me about HYDRA is true.”

Tony took in a breath. “I swear.”

Bucky nodded. Tony’s word would have to be enough.

“Okay.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is an interpretation of The Last of Us with Marvel characters inserted into the story. Some of the events follow the plot of the game, while some deviate (the ending in particular deviates from the game's ending). Please heed the tags and warnings associated with each chapter. The game is very dark, and as a result, so is this story. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment or message me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sopherfly) with any questions you might have! <3


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